Are You Experienced?
by 89JadedPictures
Summary: Ron decides that he wants to spend the rest of his life thinking about food. He offers to become a business partner to a wizard who owns a restaurant in Italy, and build its sister in Diagon Alley. But part of the deal is that Ron has to take on the Italian's apprentice, Pansy Parkinson, as his Executive Chef. (Ronsy! Mentions Harry/Hermione/Draco)(Rated "M" for language and smut)
1. Chapter 1

**Are You Experienced?**

 **Summary:** Ron decides that he wants to spend the rest of his life thinking about food. He offers to become a business partner to a wizard who owns a restaurant in Italy, and build its sister in Diagon Alley. But part of the deal is that Ron has to take on the Italian's apprentice, Pansy Parkinson, as his Executive Chef. (Ronsy! with mentions of Harry/Hermione/Draco)(Rated "M" for language and later smut)(ALBUM!FIC "Are You Experienced?" by Jimi Hendrix)

 **A/N:** Oh yeah! Another fic comin' at ya! This is set 11 years after "Le Don". You don't necessarily need to read that to understand, but you should know that Harry, Hermione, and Draco are a triad!

I must thank **storygirl1015** for being a huge reason that this fic has a plot! She helped me decide on the triad's kids' names, as well as their features and temperaments! I must admit that that was a little bit too much fun! Thanks for that!

Disclaimer: I do not own HP or Jimi Hendrix or anything associated with either!

 **Part 1- Red House**

Ronald Weasley sat below a shade tree behind a restaurant in wizarding Amalfi, Italy, named the "Red House".

It was home to some of the best food he had ever tasted; on a scale he didn't even know existed! And Ron had eaten quite a bit of food in his 36 years.

It was a farm to table restaurant that was run by a half-blood wizard, Santo Quercia, whose Muggle mum had taught him to cook at a young age. He took the tradition of cooking with one's hands seriously in most aspects of his restaurant, and he had hired witches and wizards to work in the kitchen; the need for house elves being, quote, "… too impersonal. Food made with bare hands is _far_ more magical than any conjuring or the snap of elves' fingers."

Ron loved food, especially the food his mum made without using magic; so he felt he and Santo connected on that level, and felt it wise to focus on what he loved above all else...

While he loved Quidditch, chess, the color red, large, comfortable beds, Friday nights, Sunday mornings, his Nimbus 3,000, his owl "Stubs", women, and Rune warding, he loved food the most.

Ron and Santo, and the Italian man's son, Luka, sat a large table for eight, which had been set with an array of different dishes; most representing a different country, done at varying levels of complexity:

Hasenpfeffer with a scoop of polenta; classic meatballs on a bed spaghetti and Bolognese sauce. Sushi and Japanese tacos; made with deep fried eggplant shells, and crab meat and cabbage. A buffalo beef burger with blue cheese and grilled morel mushrooms; goat mincemeat pie with sweet mashed potatoes; green curry with a side of rice and chicken miso. A combination plate of doro wat, beg wat, and beggi wat with injera; Matoke with Chapati.

These dishes all surrounded an equally extravagant center piece of desserts; ranging from tiny plates with single, tiny tarts; pineapple kulolo, a two tier chocolate cake, small bowls of vanilla custard, a platter of chocolate gyung dan, a banana cream pie, pumpkin crème Brule; a ten- scoop mountain of pomegranate and blueberry gelato sat in a large ice-cream dish; the colors alternating on the stack.

There were eight different types of breads and dinner rolls, three bottles of local wine, and six different brightly colored cocktails…

Ron was in heaven, because all of this had been prepared for _him_.

Three weeks prior, Ron had taken Harry, Hermione, and Draco to dinner at the "Red House" for their eight-year bonding anniversary. Hermione had decided on the location after saying she'd heard of it from a friend, and wanted to go desperately; especially now that the married triad's youngest kids were old enough to be watched.

Ron had been present when his "three" eldest friends had decided to go forward with a magical bonding one night; where Ron and Ginny had been asked to be present. It hadn't seemed odd, seeing as he and Ginny went over for dinner quite often.

But, once they'd spilled the beans on Hermione's pregnancy, Ginny had decided that mentioning a "bonding" was a humorous notion. Her "funny" had only turned into one of the most odd… _proposals_..?... Ron had _ever_ witnessed…

- _"Well…_ I'm _not going anywhere!" Angry, Drunk Draco growled, "I don't care if the baby is mine or Harry's. I'm staying."_

" _I know_ I _don't care if it's mine or Draco's… So I'm not going anywhere, either." Harry said, and Ron looked at him strangely; because that sentence should have sounded loving, when, instead, it sounded like a challenge._

 _Even after three years of buggering each other, Harry and Draco were still at it about who won what; and their offspring with Hermione fell within their moral compass; running somewhere along the lines of, "I'm going to be a good team player, but I also want to win."_

 _It made Ron want to shake his head at them._

" _Obviously," The pregnant witch began, "I've decided I'm not going anywhere."_

 _This statement put the three men and Ginny into state of unease._

 _Hermione was likely to leave at any moment; though she hadn't done so in years, the residual effects of her leaving the first time were not distant memories; and the fact that she had pretended to run away a second time had only made things worse._

 _They had all tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, which had, up until that point, been justified. But, upon the news of Hermione being pregnant with one of her future husband's children, and the fight that had broken out between the men because of it, she had threatened to "leave their sniveling arses" if they couldn't pull it together._

 _The energy between the two other men at the table was bordering on hostile as the triad looked between themselves with lowered lids, and Ron looked to Ginny, who looked back to him with a smirk._

 _His sister had always loved this "triad" situation_ far _too much. You'd think she'd be mad that the woman who was nearly her sister was now, possibly, having a child with her ex; while also opting to marry him_ and _a man who used to terrorize them all in their youth…_

 _Shite,_ Ron _should have been upset… but the Runes do not lie. The three had something between them that magic responded to, and you can't really fight that, can you?_

" _Very well," Lucius Jr. said, slapping a hand down on the table. "It's settled. We'll be bonded."_

" _Fine," Harry said with a glare._

" _Fine by me," Hermione said with an indifferent wave of her hand._

 _Ron caved, and shook his head in exasperation._ —

The ceremony had gone well, actually; the event being held at the old shack of Sirius' in New Zealand, where the three had changed the house to accommodate them… and Draco's need to be a spoiled, rich bitch.

The house in New Zealand was now an actual house with three stories, after Draco had paid off an uncountable amount of officials to, officially, claim the property as Harry's, giving them rights to alter the house and keep Muggles from wandering anywhere near it.

All in all, the wedding had been a huge hit, and the three had walked away from the alter as "The Malfoy-Potters". Hermione had opted to keep her maiden name, but the two men had been dead set on the both of them taking the others name; which would have left them Malfoy-Potter, and her Granger. She had then suggested hyphenating them all together (Granger-Malfoy-Potter). But, once Ron had called her "Mrs. Granmalpot" enough, she'd decided to join her husbands in being a "Malfoy-Potter".

Or "Motter", like Ron and Ginny liked to the call them.

Ron had enjoyed the wedding and the reception for the most part… besides the awkward questions from the guests who were still far too perplexed by the situation. If Ron let everything bother him, he would never sleep; so he would tell the guests that he had set them up, or…

 _-"I saw their future! In the ruuuuuuuuunes…" Ron said, voice low and spooky, as he wiggled his fingers- doing his best at Draco's dementor impression- at an inquisitive, dumpy witch before him. She scoffed and glared at him, and then turned to waddle away into the fray._

 _Ron had gotten his fishing license for the evening; which said, plainly, that he could tell stories._

 _He looked to Minerva, who stood beside him, and asked, "Should I have said that? What if people start owling me to read their futures and it becomes some sort of- silly…_ back lash _?"_

" _Back lash, blash smlash…" Minerva said, taking a drink of her wine._

 _The two froze, looked to one another, and broke into a loud fit of laughter.-_

He and Minerva had had a _lot_ of laughs that night, being as the two had been the only ones to share the secret of Hermione's return, besides her husbands. Ever since, the Head Matron had allowed Ron to call her Minerva.

It had been a "shot wand" wedding; Hermione had been far enough along for them to have deduced that the baby was Harry's, and for Molly to have to spell her dress to accommodate her baby belly. Hermione could do it, but Molly had been waiting years to put the brunette in one of her handmade gowns; and boy did she look amazing…

Ron had struggled more with that night than he had anticipated; hating how, every now and again, his brain would remind him that that should have been _him_ beside her… _his_ child that Molly had to make extra room for in a wedding dress…

They had a girl, named her Vivica, and it didn't change anything about their bonding; Draco stayed, even through the second child- which was also Harry's, a girl named Holly- and helped raised the girls as his own.

When Holly turned two, Hermione became pregnant once more.

At first, Ron had been like, "Whaaaaat?!", and he worried anxiously for a few days as they waited for the DNA test… which had not only showed them that the baby was Draco's, but that the "babies" were his!

Apparently, Draco had taken some "potency potion", and he was to be the father of triplet boys.

Ron almost died then; but it hadn't been as big of a shock as the letter he'd received from Draco asking him to be the Godfather of the triplets. He had been further floored at the news, and he wondered how many more wild broom rides he would have to endure in his lifetime when it came to his friends. Luna and Neville had two kids of their own that they had asked Ron to be the Godfather of already!

Between the The Motters, the Longbottoms and his brothers' kids, and Ginny's girlfriend's son, Ron had fifteen kids that he remembered the full names, birthdays, interests, and pet peeves of. Some asked, "Why don't you settle down and have kids, Ron?"; to which he would respond with a laugh.

Not that Ron hadn't had many promising prospects when it came to women, but the fact that all of them wanted to have children- after Ron already "had" near a dozen at the time- always became a problem for him, and would bring the end of this relationship or that one…

Even with taking this into consideration, and all of the other kids into account, Ron immediately accepted Draco's offer, sending his reply back with the Motters' owl.

Later, he found out that Draco had requested Pansy Parkinson, of _all_ fucking people, as the Godmother; and the terms of Hermione and Harry's consent was in being that Ron be the Godfather to all _five_ of the children.

Their choice on Godmother had been misplaced, in Ron's opinion, since he hadn't so much as seen the twit since the boys had been christened; the dull affair made more annoying by having to see and _hear_ Pansy coo at the babies.

Ron had said his congratulations, given the boys and the mother kisses on the cheek, and he'd left out the back door with George to go bar hopping; making plans to explain his absence some other time.

That was three years ago, and Ron was almost happy that she never showed up for the birthday parties or holidays that the _both_ of them should have attended. Not that Ron had much to say about the woman or her personal choices; because all he knew about her was the fact that she was a squishy-faced, high-pitched, flakey floozy who would throw your best friend under the Knight Bus.

Ron had said yes before he'd heard of the Motters' decision on Pansy… but he wouldn't have turned him down if he'd known.

His godsons were the _perfect_ revenge on Draco; being as Ron intended to send the boys- Orpheus, Abraxas and Severus- as many of George's "safe" inventions every chance he got; with brief instructions to use them on "Daddy Draco".

They were still too young for things like that at this point, but luck favored the prepared. Ron had those plans simmering on the back burner… waiting for the perfect moment… when the boys turned five… 'Two years!' Ron thought jovially.

Sure, he'd taken to Draco's presence well enough over the years of "peace", but the two had retained that tension between them; even if they could, every now and again, share a good laugh… usually at Harry's expense.

Then, Ron's life changed once more, about a year ago, when he retired from his life as an Auror; finally succumbing to that… weird _twist_ in his stomach that told him he had to be somewhere else… doing something else that gave him greater joy than protecting people.

Ron _loved_ to protect people; it was the lion in him; the King of the Pride that stalked the outer edges of the shadows, doing all he could to keep intruders at bay; protecting his loved ones, and the loved ones of others.

He had done this; he had officially accomplished this mission. Almost every wizarding home, business, establishment, in the world had been set with his wards at this point… and now he could sit back and enjoy the residual effects of a hefty commission; receiving a royalty check of sorts, every three months, that added another large stack of Galleons on top of the ones he had already accumulated; all while sleeping like a baby knowing that he'd done his part in "saving the world".

Again!

If someone would have told Ron, when he was a kid, that he would grow up and figure out an near impenetrable ward system (it took one hundred wizards working together to take his ward down in an hour), only for it to lead to him being one of the wealthiest bachelors in England… he would have said, "Where do I sign?"

Well, he _did_ say that- without saying it, of course- and he would have never guessed it would have all begun the year he'd taken the opportunity to join a program through the Ministry that allowed him to travel and learn different methods of defensive and offensive magic; the post-war high still at its apex, especially after Hermione had been "kidnapped".

Ron hadn't gone to Bill's thinking that he and his brother would get drunk, and stoned, one night, and talk far too deeply about the universe; only for Ron to wake up and find he'd written himself a note, knowing Drunk Ron had reached the level of "BOR". AKA; Black-Out Ron.

It had been a poorly written, sloppy, yet understandable, drunken idea of runes being fused within the air… which led to a sloppier side note of the runes being set into the earth; foliage, dirt, and even setting them to allow lower lifeforms to pass through, but humans and animagi to be blocked out specifically.

It had taken Ron a week, but he finally decided to owl Shacklebolt to inform him that he was off to Muggle University to take biology, chemistry, physics, and mathematics classes. The bastard had floo'd to him a few days later, and could barely contain his laughter as he consented to Ron's "half-baked ideas".

Needless to say, Ron was the one laughing now… his mouth full of chicken as he sat in a magnificent tea garden that seconded as an outdoor dining room, in Italy, with the prospect of buying a portion of the business to build its sister in Diagon Alley.

Ron wanted to be present it as the most prestigious, grandiose restaurants in all of Wizarding England.

It had not ever been Ron's idea to own a business of any sort, not even a restaurant! But food? Spending the remainder of his life worried about food? Ron could _do_ that.

He knew there was much more to it than that, though, hence his meeting with the owner of "Red House".

Santo smiled at Ron as they ate, planning on talking about business after their meal; though some things were being discussed despite their earlier agreeing on a peaceful meal. The man had given him a tour of the grounds from their seats; pointing out the barns and acres for farming; the large pond where they spawned fish; the slaughter house that helped in supplying fresh meat; the large chicken pen where a brood of a hundred or more chickens clucked about.

Ron was loving every moment of the luncheon that Luka prepared for him; as a way for Santo to show his prospective business partner what the Italian expected to be upheld if the red-head was to take the good name of "Red House" with him to England. Ron had suspected this would be easy enough, as Santo's apprentice, and son, would be accompanying him to be the executive Chef; and Santo would be handling a lot of the business aspects that would keep his second restaurant "up to par".

Between the three of them, Ron figured they could figure it out.

Ron swallowed to say, "This is fantastic! Even my mother can't cook chicken like this, Luka. Don't tell her I said that, though, when you meet her." Luka gave Ron a lifted brow, and brought his napkin up to wipe his mouth as the young Italian turned to his father, before responding,

"I did not cook this, though I did help her set up." Luka's accent was thick, but Ron thought he heard him say "her".

When Ron had owled Santo three weeks ago, the morning after returning home from Italy, it had taken the man a week to respond; the letter explaining, in some detail, that Santo had time to dine with Ron two weeks from that day; that Santo thought Ron's idea of moving "Red House" to England was a splendid idea, and that Ron did not need to worry about a Chef because Santo's apprentice was willing to relocate.

Amongst a few other minor details- the legal aspects to be later agreed upon once the two men could see eye to eye on an agreement- Ron had arrived in Italy at the correct date and time to be escorted along the path that wrapped around the large red house, to sit on the dining veranda, where Santo and Luka had been waiting for him.

They had all introduced themselves, and Luka had been introduced as Santo's apprentice; a man only a year or two younger than Ron.

So the "her" was starting to confuse him a bit…

"Excuse me. You said "her"? I thought- you-"Ron pointed his fork at Luka, "- were your father's apprentice." Santo laughed at this, Luka rolled his eyes lightly, and Ron pulled his brows in as he felt his confusion mount.

'What in the bloody hell is so funny?' Ron thought as Santo's laughter died off, the Italian man saying,

"Of course Luka is my apprentice! Until the day I decide to pass _this_ "Red House" to him. You cannot take him, Ron. I need Luka; he is my legacy, as is our restaurant.

"No," Santo shook his head as he sat forward, "You will take Chef Pans." Ron blinked at Santo, twice, before asking,

"You have a chef named "Pans"?" Santo nodded with a smile, and then turned to Luka, saying,

"Would you get her for us, please, Lu?" Luka nodded in return, his face fading from a mildly pleasant one to a frown as he stood to walk towards the building, some ways away, entering through the back door.

Ron looked back to Santo, his mind tossing a few questions around. They hadn't yet decided on the terms of business, but if they were going to talk about it, Ron supposed the _real_ apprentice should be present.

"How… how long has Chef Pans been your apprentice? What is her experience? Luka, I can understand; he's your son. Is Pans… your daughter?" Ron asked, trying to figure out why Luka had gone from pleasant to sullen so quickly if Pans was his sister. Santo shook his head, replying,

"No, she is not my daughter, though I do think of her as one. She has been cooking for ten years, but has only been my apprentice for seven of those."

"Seven years of being an _apprentice_?" Ron asked, thinking someone should advance after that amount of time.

"Pans… has a willful spirit…" Santo said, his voice taking a tone Ron couldn't pinpoint; it verged on both annoyance and respect, as if the woman's will was equally awful to deal with as it was advantageous. "When she came to me, applying as my dish washer, I did not know that she had already been trained as a chef in Las Vegas." Ron's interest was piqued. 'An American, then?'

"One evening, after she had already been here a year, I came in after returning from a trip to see my mother, only to find that my other apprentice, the one before Pans who trained alongside Luka, had left in the middle of the dinner service!

"You could imagine my frustration, but it didn't last long once I realized that things were being handled by both Luka and Pans," at this, the man sighed, saying,

"After that, I had no choice but to take her on as my new apprentice, seeing as she was the only person to step up when Luka needed someone… which earned quite a bit of strife from my staff; most of whom had been with me for years at this point, and had wished the position for themselves.

"But I could not deny that this dishwasher had been learning from the bubbles; watching every plate and learning my recipes from the corner. I informed her that I had personally chosen her, and she swore to never disappoint me; which she has not… except in one, mind you, _one_ aspect of my business..."he paused, took a sip of his drink. Ron wanted to know what Santo's "perfect" apprentice had done to make such a reasonable man, who was giving the woman praise, seem so concerned.

"She is an exceptional chef," Santo continued, "capable of great calm and logic all at once, which is what a chef needs to be successful; among other things, of course.

"She accepted the terms of my apprenticeship for her whole-heartedly; going to New York for a year to study with Muggles; forcing her to cook with her hands instead of her magic. She did so, without fail, and did so again when I sent her to Japan for six months, to Morroco for a summer… she even lived with my mother three winters ago, learning from the _true_ master." Ron gave Santo an understanding smile.

"My one concern though…" Santo paused, Ron waiting with baited breath, "Now, she _is_ a team player… except for when it comes to Luka. I regret to have to bring this up, but as professional as Pans can be, she and Luka do not get along, and it effects the work environment.

"I will not deny it, for my son can be an _ass_ …

"I only say this to warn you that such a thing is possible; for her not to get along with someone. She works well with _everyone_ else, even the ones who once believed she did not deserve her position; allowing their comments to roll off of her like water on a duck.

"Even as I yelled at her… cussed up a storm in my frustrations, something that happens all too often in an Italian kitchen, she did not back down. She would return the next day, head held high, ignoring as the men harassed her, and the women called her a skinny heffer behind her back.

"Pans has the last laugh in this, however, because she is now their superior in a way. She hasn't been here as long, but she holds the power.

"She has taken the last two years of being here without studying abroad, or tests, and she has proven to me that she is capable of being the Executive Chef that you need. She knows all of the ins and outs, all orders and procedures… and she has even taken to slaughtering and butchering the livestock this past summer.

"She will be capable of monitoring the farm you wish to construct, if we continue with this arrangement. You won't have to do much with her around, which is why I must warn you about her temper with Luka. I find that it will be the only option if you are to take "Red House" to England, because Luka will be visiting to check on progress; wherein the two will have to continue to work together in a way.

"A part of me wants to believe that there is an unspoken attraction between them, but I don't think they see it that way at all. I have tried for years to think of a way to get them to cooperate beyond cooking; when they cook together, it is more than magic… but when that is over, the two are ripping out each oth-"

The sound of a pan crashing through the back window and onto the stone pathway behind the house broke Santo's words, and he and Ron jumped as they looked toward the noise.

Santo sighed, swearing, "Merlin's mother…" before ripping his napkin from his lap and throwing it down on the table to stalk angrily towards the house. Out of curiosity, Ron followed him, and the two men quickly made their way to stand a few feet from the back door, avoiding glass and the skillet.

As they had approached, they could hear the sound of Luka yelling in Italian… And if Ron's spine would not have been wracked by a familiar shiver, he may not have realized that the person shrieking back was Pansy Fucking Parkinson.

 **A/N:** I would like to thank my BETA, I was BOTWP, for being an open-minded soldier! And for being one of those friends that encourages my insanity! Without her, this would have some holes in it... Big holes! There would also be a boring paragraph about chicken and crab tacos, rather than the amazing food she added! She's so awesome! Thank you!(!)

 **(Red House)**

 **There's a red house over yonder,  
That's where my baby stays  
Lord, there's a red house over yonder  
Lord, that's where my baby stays  
I ain't been home to see my baby  
In ninety nine and one half days**

 **Wait a minute, something's wrong here  
The key won't unlock this door  
Wait a minute, something's wrong, lord, have mercy  
This key won't unlock this door,  
Something's goin' on here  
I have a bad bad feeling  
That my baby don't live here no more**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I mentioned in "Le Don" how the details to Ron's Rune magic were due to I was BOTWP. I hadn't yet thought of how it all worked, and she came up with this awesome back story and all of the reasons as to how he learned what he did, and I owe her a huge apology for not mentioning it before! She also created "Granmalpot". Lol! We had a few good laughs on that one. Thank you, lady!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own HP or Jimi Hendrix, or anything affiliated with either!

 **Part 2: Are You Experienced?**

"You conceited bastard!" The sound of things crashing loudly into other things became a chorus of Italian swears, "bangs", "bongs", and Pansy throwing a few more choice words at Luka; like, "I _worked_ for this! How _dare_ you insinuate I did anything like _that_ to get this promotion! You're a jealous, pretentious, sad excuse for a motherless _goat fucker_!"

Ron, who had been having such a pleasant day, became acutely aware of the fact that he didn't want to be a part of a deal that threw an angry, shrieking, violent Pansy Parkinson into the mix. He loved Santo's food, he wanted to eat it every day, but if Pansy had to cook it while throwing pans, or even just opening her mouth in general, he didn't want shite to do with it.

A red flag should have gone off in his mind, telling him that "Pans" was far too familiar a name. However, he must admit that he would have never thought anyone looney enough to let Pansy Parkinson cook for them?! Onemight allow Pansy to cook for them if they fancied a little poison in their porridge!

But, even with these thoughts, Ron was curious as to what Luka had said to the witch to cause her fit of rage, and if his insinuations were as bad as the witch deserved.

Ron and Santo leaned to the side and peered into the kitchen of the house, their eyes landing on the pair of angry apprentices who stood on opposite ends of a long, silver prep table; faces angry, stances defensive as they leaned on their palms over the silver surface, the both of them red from the amount of anger that ran through their veins.

Shite was everywhere but the floor; there were knives in the walls, and the table had bits of food and a number of broken plates and glasses about it. The commander of this shite show seemed to be Pansy; her magic so out of control at whatever Luka had said causing her to make a magic tornado…

One similar to Ron's…

Ron had seen Pansy look annoyed, defensive, snooty, bratty, "affectionate" (why did everything always seem to come back to Draco Fucking Malfoy?), and even proper, but never had he seen her light up and burn as she yelled at Luka. Ron flipped on his Rune switch, and he inspected her as he watched her Runes burn bright yellow in her anger; the molecules around her whirling around with her magic.

"If you ever say anything like that to me again, I will… I-"

"You'll _what_?!" Luka yelled back in English, "Suck more dicks?"

"Bloody hell!" Ron said; a chuckle on his lips as Pansy's glare settled so low he wondered if she could still see.

But what was more odd was the fact that everything in the air stopped moving, and it hit the tables and storage shelves as they crashed; everything that landed on the floor disappearing the second it made contact; being sent to Merlin _knows_ where.

"Accio knife seven!" Pansy yelled, her hand going straight out, palm open, as a large butcher knife flew through the air where it had hung on the wall against a mostly empty magnetic strip; the utensils that were stored there having been ripped off and sent flying through the air. 'The butcher knife must have been too heavy…' Ron thought amiably.

Pansy caught the butcher knife, slammed it blade down on the table with a loud, sharp "clang", and sneered,

"If you're so obsessed with _dicks_ , _Luka_ \- let's see yours."

"I'll get to it right away, _Pans_. Pass me that knife so I can shove it up your ass while I shove my co-"

"Ok! Stop!" Santo yelled, cutting Luka off, sounding beyond alarmed as he opened the broken glass door to move into the kitchen.

Ron followed, again… but froze the second Pansy looked up and over at him; her long brown hair, which was in a high ponytail with a head band, whipped about her face as she turned. Her dark eyes were burning… until she saw Ron and Santo, the large brown orbs widening as she recognized Ron.

He thought of giving her a small wave, or saying something like, "Nice knife", but Santo yelled even louder than the other two had been as he continued,

"The two of you know today is a big deal for me! And you are acting like children! Irresponsible, reckless, embarrassing _children_!" Santo didn't get red, he got purple! "Stop telling each other those terrible things! We are professionals, _not_ … _fucking sailors_!

"Luka!" Father pointed angrily at son, that younger man tightening his jaw, "If I ever hear you say anything like that to Pansy again, I might not fire her- like I feel like doing _right now_ …" he tossed her a pointed glare, to which she did not bat an eye to, "..and instead I will _let_ her have your balls!

"If Mr. Weasley," the man motioned back at Ron, leading Pansy to lock eyes with him once more, Ron not even realizing he had staring at her, "decides to continue on with his interest after this, I will be _astounded._ And, if he does _not_ … I will have _both_ of your jobs! Son or no! Daughter or no! I will have you both _out_!"

Ron wanted to turn around, wave two fingers over his shoulder and say, "Arrivederci, tossers!", if it meant watching Pansy Parkinson getting fired.

However, he just as much wanted to keep looking at her.

'What the fuck _happened_ to her? She looks… different… Like- good…' Ron blinked. 'Yeah… really good...'

"Hello, Weasley," Pansy greeted him, choosing to ignore her ranting boss, while she continued to look at Ron as he had her…

Pansy was annoyed, but was forcing her voice to sound somewhat pleasant; her face lacking any and all joy in reality; she was trying to keep it together.

"Parkinson," Ron responded, after mentally shaking himself for studying her, putting his hands into the pockets of his cream colored dress slacks. In an attempt to annoy her, now that there was no avoiding her at the moment, he leaned back and forth on his heels, feigning pleased civility as he said, "Pleasure meeting _you_ here."

"Indeed…" came her dry reply, her knuckles somehow turning whiter as she continued to grip the knife handle; her dark brown eyes continuing to glow hot as she glared at him.

"Do…" Santo turned to blink at him, and then back to Pansy, "The two of you know one another? I mean, I know England's small…"

"Yes," Pansy answered flatly, "We attended Hogwarts the same year." Santo looked surprised, whereas Luka shook his head, and the Englishmen continued their stare down.

It had been three years since Ron had heard a thing about her. Hell, he'd hardly heard a thing about her before _that_! He had completely avoided all conversations that had anything to do with Pansy Parkinson, just as he'd ignored her at the wedding and the boys' christening.

Just like she had ignored her Godsons…

"Well- that's splendid. Then you already know how talented she is! She says she did well in potions, something that I think adds to her ability to memorize so many recipes and procedures…" Ron didn't know why, but he and Pansy were still staring at each other, rather than responding to Santo. Sure, they had heard him speak, but they continued to stare.

Ron was taking in her black, form-fitting, button down shirt, which was tucked into straight-leg black pants; a short black apron wrapped and tied around the small, small of her waist where her wand poked out of a pocket. The ensemble showed Ron a great side profile of the woman where she still leaned aggressively over the table toward Luka.

Luka, who had gone from livid to stunned, shook his head once more and allowed himself to look annoyed before he stormed from the kitchen and out into the dining room; which was closed for three hours for the restaurant to prep after lunch to be ready for dinner.

Ron didn't know if the other employees weren't there yet, off doing other things… or if they'd all scattered once pans and bowls and knives started flying.

Santo moved to go after Luka, saying over his shoulder, "Since you two are already acquainted, I will return shortly. I must talk to my son… And, Pans… _Please_ \- clean up this fucking mess!" Santo yelled, pointing at all of the things that had come crashing down around her. And, with that, elder Italian was out the double doors; leaving Ron and Pansy to stare at one another in an uneasy silence.

For almost a minute, the two stood and took each other in; evaluating each other's bodies, giving each other scrutinizing looks, sizing each other up for the challenge… before Pansy finally broke, forcing her face into a smile and saying,

"Decided to buy a restaurant, Weasley?" She moved from around the table, but not before she flicked her wrist and sent the knife back to its former spot, and pulled her wand from her pocket, all while maintaining eye contact.

She broke it, however, as she began to cast spell after spell to put the haphazard kitchen back to its, probably, usual shining glory; the plates began to put themselves back together, the mixing bowls did the same and stacked themselves in their spot; the knives and spatulas and metal spoons flew back to the magnetic strip.

Instead of responding instantly, he'd decided to let his mind roll, thinking of how he hadn't liked her _at all_ in school. In fact, it was probably safe to say he hated her then; thinking her more of a blast-ended skrewt than a person. As life went on, and the two had gone years without seeing one another, Ron had let that hate turn into a dull roar of distaste; which carried on in him to evolve back into hate once the christening had come and gone, and the birthdays and Christmases, and all of the other holidays Ron chose to spend with their God kids, passed without her presence.

Those feelings, however, were joined by very disturbing new ones as the woman worked quickly at putting things back together; the spells leaving her wand so quickly he wondered how many times she'd destroyed Santo's kitchen. But, what was even more disturbing was the fact that he'd noticed her plump arse in her pants.

Frilly, fluffy dress robes- like the giant, pink monstrosity she'd worn the Christening ('Who the fuck wears _that_ to a christening?!')- school regulated length skirts, long black robes… All of these things had hid her from Ron before, alongside disdain and her squishy face; but he could not deny that a woman's body lay beneath the tight ensemble the witch decided to work in.

When she was done, she walked towards him, her face set into a professional pleasantness that Ron knew was fake... though it didn't take away from what he was trying to avoid looking at as she stopped a meter before him. Her shirt was rather tight, and he hated that he noticed as she looked up at him with expectant eyes. He'd remained silent for, probably, a little too long…

'Yeah. She looks good. _Really_ good,' Ron thought shamelessly. 'But she's a slag.'

"Yes." Ron decided to finally answer, "However, if you are part of the deal, I may have to back out." She tried to fight back a glare, and he continued, "And not only will I be dodging a curse, but, as a bonus, I get to fall asleep knowing that I'm the reason you got sacked."

Her glare suddenly turned into a smirk, and she asked in a low voice, "Do you _often_ think of being the reason I'm _sacked_ while you're trying to sleep?"

He had expected her to rage at his words. Instead, she ignored him and blinked, as if she were innocent, leaving Ron to wonder if she meant her words how they sounded. Her ghost of a smirk said she did…

Then Ron wondered if foul language and sexual innuendos ran rampant in the food industry, because he could live with that, if that were the case. If he decided to invest, of course! That was- _somehow_ \- still up in the air; even after the vulgar display of power he'd just witnessed. Ron was too intrigued to leave; especially now that Pansy had gone so far as to part those awfully nice lips of hers to say something so lewd.

Ron _liked_ lewd…

"No… but I might now," he responded, though he had no intention in letting his mind wander there! 'Ew.'

He watched as her expression turned to surprise at his answer. And then her face twitched; somewhere around her nose… above the left side of her mouth… before she let the twitch develop into a smirk. She crossed her arms under ample breasts, and said,

"Keep dreaming," and then she shook her head, her cold exterior breaking into one of insecurity as she continued, "I'm _sorry_ you had to see that." She sighed, and shook her head again, her face turning into one of agitation as red hit her cheeks. "This- means a lot to Santo, and I had no intention of having a fight with Luka today. I- I really wanted to impress you…" Ron's eyebrows shot up, and she put her hands up and waved them, saying,

"I didn't know it was you _specifically_! He didn't tell me who you were before you came. I noticed you when you sat down…" She trailed off for a moment, "Santo just said that we had a possible investor, and that I was to do my best." Ron eased at this, feeling odd, for a moment, at the thought of Pansy trying to impress _him_.

"Luka… he and I have actually been- _alright_ the last two weeks. He's been spitefully avoiding me since Santo decided that _I_ would be the one to go to England. _That_ was just waiting to come out, and I'm sure he's crying right now that daddy didn't choose him…" Her tone was twisted in the end, even in her long apology to him; Ron knowing she was basking in the glory of her "win" against her fellow apprentice.

But, then, she looked up at him and her smug expression fell into one of concern as she stammered a few vowels before saying,

"That is, if you choose to do so after this… Take me with you to England, I mean." She squished her already slightly squished face, something she'd grown into a little, and it only resulted in Ron thinking she still didn't look bad in doing so.

She wore no make-up; her eyes were a little larger than some, and they sat below perfect eyebrows; her cheeks were full, not chubby- just round- and her upturned, squishy nose actually reminded Ron of his own for a moment… Which was weird…

"Please, Weasley," her voice only hinting at begging, "don't let that… I don't usually do- _that_ …" She groaned and turned away from him with a sigh to look at the door where Santo and Luka had disappeared, continuing,

"I know that you and I don't have the best past, but I've been preparing for this since I grew up and decided that cooking is my passion… _"_ She turned back to him, " _Food_ is my passion, and I want to help you take "Red House" home to England."

Ron raised a brow at the sincerity in her voice, at her choice of words… and at the fact that he and Pansy had something in common. A _big_ something in common… Her expression, and the lower pitch in her voice, almost made her sound… sultry?

Was he drunk? Had they served him booze with lunch?

Oh yeah… they did.

"I- I was raised by a mental mum… and I also have a very violent sister," Ron said, in his own way of saying, " _That_? _That_ was nothing!" Pansy nodded, as if she knew Ron's words were fact. If she followed Quidditch, she would know Ginny's reputation for having a number of on pitch scuffles. Ron continued lightly,

"So… I found your tactics rather mild."

Pansy's brow twitched up, and he had to guess that his answer amused her rather than offended her; Ron was ever so slightly amused by her amusement. It also amused him, as he suddenly felt his stomach growl, that it had been _her_ who had cooked the chicken he claimed to be better than his mother's!

Which brought him back to his half-eaten lunch still sitting on the Veranda; if he was already here, he might as well stay and finish the amazing lunch his last remaining "true nemesis" had prepared for him.

"Santo said… _you_ cooked lunch?" Ron said, motioning his right thumb over his shoulder to the back door, which was still smashed...

She followed Ron's gesture, and she pulled her wand out once more to "accio" the pan and fix the door, before turning to the pans that hung from the pan wrack suspended near her head. She had to go up on her toes and hang it on an empty hook, and Ron tried not to watch her too closely as she stretched her body up to reach it, obviously deeming this task too easy for magic, before she turned to say,

"Yes. I did. Did you enjoy it?" She asked, returning her wand to her short apron. Ron shrugged, pausing in his false expression of boredom… before he cracked a small smile, and replied,

"The part that I was able to enjoy, I did, yes. Thank you."

Then… she beamed at him; the viper _beamed_ at him! He had never seen her give a smile that didn't _at least_ border on sarcasm, or a leer, or a sneer, or mock innocence. Her genuine grin kind of blew his mind, because he knew he'd never seen it directed at him before. And Ron had _seen_ some shite!

The only other time he'd seen her smile like that, she'd also been cooing at their Godsons, and Ron couldn't handle her voice once it hit a certain pitch.

"Splendid. Allow me to return you to your meal," she said, the tone in her voice going a bit higher, as she remained as professional as she could after he'd witnessed her threaten a man's personal parts.

Ron wondered if he should be worried as he asked,

"Will you be joining me?" Though he didn't know why he asked this, he still liked to believe it was because he _didn't_ want her to.

"I don't think Santo wants me to leave you alone… Do you _want_ me to join you?"

"Sure…" Ron said, figuring that since he was still here- and he was still eating- that he was still going to give the wild bunch at the "Red House" a shot. And that he and Pansy might as well attempt a "stab" at some sort of civility while in Santo's establishment.

She brought her hands together in front of her, giving him another small smile, before moving around him towards the back door to open it, motioning for him to exit. He did so and he followed her, side by side, as they made their way back to the table.

Ron pulled out the spare chair next to his own for her to sit in- which she took- before he helped her scoot closer to the table. He resumed his previous position, the one before "Chef Pans'" magic threw a pan through the back door, and he began to eat the food that had been spelled to maintain its perfect internal temperature in his absence.

She joined him in eating, putting food on her plate, before she asked,

"I thought it was kind of you to bring the Matters here for their anniversary," Ron looked up at her and tried to swallow and smile at the same time, before asking,

"You call them the Matters? I call them the Motters." She gave a small, amused snort before saying,

"You _would_ use more of Harry's name." Ron lifted a brow at her, matching her smirk before asking,

"That would only make sense, seeing as you attempted to use more of Draco's name."

"Matter still has more of Harry's name."

"How about the Malters then?"

"That's even _better_!" She said loudly, her face lighting up as she gave an airy laugh.

Ron shook his head at her, trying to fight the urge to actually laugh with her; being as it was already strange that they'd been civil for ten minutes. He took a bite of his crab taco to avoid sharing a laugh with the witch he disliked.

Life was bizarre!

"You knew we were here last week? Why didn't you come out?" Ron asked, wishing that she had so that he could have known of her before now; angry their "friends" hadn't mentioned it before they'd left, or even while Hermione had chosen "Red House" as their destination.

On their behalf, Ron could admit he had always told them, "I don't want to talk about that twit!", every time they brought her up, so this was as least half his fault. But, even beyond that, Ron was leery of breaching the subject of the other three with her; his emotions on the woman's absence in their friends' lives still a bother to him.

She looked over to him and nodded, replying,

"I cooked that night, and I was aware of your being here, but we were busy and Luka was gone, so I was in charge of the kitchen alone. I made the cake they sent out especially for them, and I came out later to see you all but you had already gone." She began to eat her food, and Ron watched her mouth… but not for too long.

"That cake was amazing!" He said, remembering the raspberry chocolate mousse cake he could never eat enough of. "Do you often make desserts for Santo?" She nodded, a smile on her lips as she chewed.

"Yes. Either Luka or I make then. I also make the cakes and all of the food for the "Malter" kids' birthday parties," she said, giving a fond smile, and then moving to take a bite of chicken. Ron gaped at her lightly, remembering all of the extravagant dishes and cakes that he always suspected Draco had chosen and ordered from some rich bitch catering service.

In his thoughts, and his body's feelings, at the realization that she hadn't been a total flake, Ron remained silent as he watched her eat for a short moment before she continued,

"I spent a year in France learning to be a pastry chef, by request of Chef Santo, of course. I was already pretty good at it…

"I used to follow the house elves around the kitchen, even if my mum forbade it. By the time I got to Hogwarts… the urge to do so had been broken in me, and I resorted to potions. It wasn't for some years after leaving school, and telling my mum that she could bugger herself, that I decided to go Las Vegas and learn to cook.

"I spent two years there in the Wizarding community, learning all I could from a great chef…" her eyes darted about before she grabbed the baked mashed potatoes, and put some on her plate. "After that, I came back, and started working in England.

"And then, one night, I received an owl from my mum, who I hadn't spoken to in a year by that time…" Ron raised his brow, surprised- and then not really- that the woman could detach herself from her family. She seemed to be pretty good at that. "…saying she was in Italy and she wanted to visit. I figured, what the fuck, you know?"

Ron nodded, chewing, wondering what the fuck was going on with the world as he listened to Pansy Parkinson, _the_ Pansy Parkinson, talk to him. It must have been the good food that made him so agreeable, because, otherwise, he'd probably be quite bothered by the idea.

"So- I meet her _here_ for dinner… and I fell in _love_!" She turned to Ron, her eyes wide with excitement as she relived the moment in her head. "I knew then that I couldn't live if I didn't know how to cook like Santo does! So, I pretended to be a nobody, refusing to play my hot-shot card," Ron gave her lop-sided smile, "and I applied to be a dishwasher, using my previous cooking experience as my dishwashing experience, and I got hired.

"I knew that, if I watched close enough, I would learn all I could; so for a year I watched Santo and Luka- and the other apprentice, Raul- and everyone _else_ , mind you, cook and yell at one another! Cussing, and shouting, and throwing things… only for the result to be this amazingly beautiful, delicious, perfectly presented food.

"I knew this was the place for me." Ron, who was being slowly poisoned by deliciousness, could only shake his head at her as he cleared his plate. He was content on listening, especially now that he was able to try the custard and the cake.

He was _content_ \- listening to _Pansy_!

"And, when I began- oh!" Pansy grabbed Ron's arm as he began to reach for the cake. "Allow me!" She waved her hand over the stacked dessert, and the cake was cut into pieces, while still maintaining its shape. She flicked her wrist and two pieces of cake moved to Ron's plate.

He raised a brow at her, wondering how she had gotten good as wandless magic. She must have recognized his look, and she said,

"Once you do a spell a billion times, it doesn't take much to do it without thinking. I cut four cakes a night, almost every night, for three years. And, before that, Merlin knows..." Ron could understand this; though he still needed his wand, he no longer had to say the incantation to set one of his wards… it simply came out of him.

Magic was different for everybody.

"I'm… I'm sorry if I'm boring you with my story, Weasley. I just thought I should tell you that this isn't just some game to me… This is my life; the life that I love."

"Don't worry, Parkinson. Sure, I might have thought that your _daddy_ paid for your position here if Santo hadn't already-" He paused…

Ron had said this in jest, however, the look on Pansy's face when the words passed his lips caused his eye brows to move up his forehead, and his chewing to still. The expression, the one she'd fixed on him many a time before, even at the wedding and the christening from halfway across the party, made Ron flare back at her; though they'd been in blissful peace a few moments ago.

To think, they had had fifteen minutes of civil conversation! _That_ was a first…

"Why would you assume that?" She snapped. "Jealous my _daddy_ can _pay_ for something I want?" Her was voice cold, but the fire was back in her eyes. "Still hung up on having to wear your mum's, or whoever's, dress robes?" Her full lips were pulled into a sneer, and Ron ignored her statement, and her lips, having long gotten over that "dress robe" dribble!

Ignoring her jibe at his once poverty stricken status, he laughed,

"Ha! He did pay Santo, didn't he?" Ron knew that he hadn't; Santo had told him what Pansy just had, but he had only decided to jab at her because she seemed to enjoy jabbing him back. Now he was jabbing at her because he hated when her face got squishy from anger, and then directed it at him.

It had been hot when she'd been doing it to Luka… When she did it to him? He didn't like it at all!

"No! He didn't! I got here from hard work, Weasley!" she stood up, and threw her napkin onto her plate; her body turning to face him; which had been a bad choice on her behalf because Ron was now eye-level with her chest. "I swear, between you and Luka, I have had it up to _here_ with today!" She lifted her hand over her head as far as it could go.

"The only man in the world who can notice someone's potential is Santo; and my respect for him only makes every other sexist fuck around this place think I need to suck him off to get any kind of ground here! Or that I have to pay him off!

"I could make a joke in saying that your lazy _arse_ doesn't know what hard work looks like, and I could make a joke about how you don't know what to do with money now that you actually have it! Or I could touch on the fact that your best mates decided that fucking _my_ best mate was a good idea, and how my bringing it up causes your face to match your ginger hair.

" _Or_ , I could continue making jabs at your family's poverty!

"But I won't, because I know you made it to this point because you _also_ know how to work hard, and I know your family is rich with something better than money, and because I know it bothers you that the three of them ended up together; even if I like your face all red, I don't want you to feel like shite about it!

"Like you, and so many others, seem to like making me feel like shite about how that fact that I have daddy's money, and that it is the only reason I ended up here instead of on the back of some broom!" She glared down at him, Ron knowing his face was pulled into one of shock. Ron was going to reply, but she put her hand up to stop him as she continued,

"And I won't say that you don't know what to do with money now that you have it because you're making the right choice in choosing Santo…"she held her sneer, "And you are making the right choice in me, if you so _choose_ me, because I am the _best_ that you are going to _get_." She turned from him and she retreated, yelling over her shoulder,

"I have chickens to slaughter!" She made toward the large barn that Santo had pointed to earlier, abandoning more than half of her lunch.

Ron couldn't say what made him respond to her the way he did, but later he would think it was shock.

"I- I love chicken…" Ron called after her. She stopped, turned to look at him over her shoulder, and called back,

"I know…" She turned once more and left without another backwards glance.

 **A/N:** I love this story you guys. _So_ much so, that I've written almost all of it already! Thank you for reading, and please review. : )

 **(Are You Experienced?)**

 **So-er, are you experienced?  
Have you ever been experienced?  
Well, I have**

 **Ah, let me prove it to you**  
 **Trumpets and violins, I can hear in the distance**  
 **I think they're calling our names**  
 **Maybe now you can't hear them, but you will**  
 **If you just take hold of my hand**  
 **Ah! But are you experienced?**  
 **Have you ever been experienced?**  
 **Not necessarily stoned, but beautiful...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Don't ask me why, but Mr. Hendrix spelled "foxy" with an "e".

 **A/N:** Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy this installment.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or Jimi Hendrix.

 **Part 3- Foxey Lady**

Ron owled Hermione- instead of Draco, of course- writing:

 _"Mrs. Malter,_

 _Why in Merlin's bloody ball bag would you not tell me about Pansy being a chef at the Red House?_

 _-Ron"_

Some hours later, around dinner, Hermione apparated from New Zealand to Ron's living room; dressed in sweat pants and a white t-shirt, both of which were covered in food. She waved her hand to get rid of the pea green stains, right as she said,

"Severus just made his baby food explode because I was leaving him!" Ron almost had time to smile before she continued, "Why does it matter to you if we didn't tell you? None of us wanted to watch your face, ears, and neck turn red before you refused to go."

As she finished speaking, Harry apparated beside her, asking,

"Would you tell me the next time you're going to just- _leave_?"

"Is Draco with the kids?" Hermione asked. Harry made a face that Ron read as, "Duh!" Hermione sighed, and said,

"I'll be right back! Ron figured out that Pansy cooks at Red House. I just popped in to ask why that would be worth owling about." Harry turned to Ron and smiled before asking,

"Sorry we didn't tell you. We figured you wouldn't want to go." Ron sighed, and shook his head at his friends.

They were right; if they would have told him about her, he would have said no. That is, until his mind registered that she was cooking; he had to see _that_ shite!

And then he did… and he was _more_ than impressed! Pansy Parkinson could cook; something he would have thought the spoiled witch would think only house elves did; or that food just came out of thin air! Santo said it right. Food made with your bare hands is far more magical than any conjuring or the snap of elves' fingers.

"Well," Ron sighed, feeling for the first time that he probably shouldn't have owled Hermione. They had been in the right; and then he would have made a scene, and he would have stood in front of the door to the kitchen with his face in the little clear pane of glass, just to get a look of some shite he thought he would never see!

Hold on… now that he thought about, he hadn't actually seen her cook; he'd just eaten her food. He wondered if she looked mad when she cooked, or if she smiled like she had when…

'Wait… What?' Ron blinked rapidly at his friends for a moment, but they didn't notice as he continued,

"You're probably right. I was just surprised when I went back there earlier, to talk to her boss about building a "Red House" in Diagon Ally, and _she_ was there!"

"What?!" Harry and Hermione both asked loudly.

"You are?!" Hermione looked, suddenly, very excited, and she grinned and jumped once before hugging him, "That's amazing Ron! You're going to love that! I haven't seen you look as happy as you did when we went to "Red House" in _some_ time!"

Ron rolled his eyes and pulled away, before he told her the big problem.

"If we go forward with this, Pansy will have to be the Executive Chef."

Harry burst into a fit of laughter so hard, he fell back into a chair; right as a half-naked (he was wearing swim trunks), disheveled haired, food covered Draco Malfoy- Potter apparated into the living room beside his wife. He looked pissed; which suited Ron just fine.

"How are your heirs?" Ron teased the blonde with a grin, loving that his Godsons were already doing his work; and without him having to pay them for it. He was sure that would come later, though. They _were_ Malfoys after all…

Draco glared at Ron for a moment before he turned to say to Hermione,

"You had to leave in the middle of dinner?! You _know_ how dinner can get!"

"Ron saw Pansy when he went to the "Red House" today to talk about building one in Diagon Ally, and if he does, she has to be his chef!" Harry said, the tone in his voice all too pleased.

Ron glared at his oldest friend, but Draco… _Draco_ suddenly looked _very_ happy; his smirk plastered on his face as he turned back to Ron and asked,

"How are _your_ heirs?" At the blonde's words, Ron's mind went back Pansy threatening Luka, and wondered how many people she had brandished a knife on.

It was Ron's turn to glare, and he said, "Please don't ever talk about my balls, Draco. I already told you, you aren't allowed anywhere near them." Draco raised a dark brow, asking,

"But Harry is?"

"What?!" Harry asked indignantly. Ron wondered if there was a marital spat between the two that concerned his balls; whether it be Ron's want to for Harry to touch him, or Draco being jealous that he didn't get to, he _really_ didn't want to know.

"Girls!" Hermione said, stepping between her husbands- who, in fact, had long girly hair- saying, "You two need to get home. I will be back soon. Ask Mills and Kreacher to feed Abraxas."

Draco had insisted that Mills not be released of his duties to the Malfoys once Hermione had mentioned it, and Kreacher had only given her a snide laugh when she tried to hand him clothes. To compromise, both elves had been given living quarters in each house; complete with clothing and the freedom to leave whenever they chose.

That still hadn't happened, even to Hermione's displeasure. But still, she accepted their help, because who the fuck wouldn't?! If you knew Severus Malfoy- Potter like anyone who met him knew the "youngest" triplet, you _needed_ help!

"Why we can't use magic, I will never know," Draco said. Harry scoffed, and said,

"It's called _bonding_ , Draco. We're not going to detach ourselves from our kids to avoid getting a little food sprayed on us."

"You call _this_ -"Draco motioned to his food covered bare chest, "- a little food? The girls never did this!" Harry smirked at Draco and stood, waved his hand over his husband to banish the food, grabbed him by the arm, and dissaparated with a small "pop".

As the years went by, Harry had figured out a way to apparate/dissaparate without making a sound. How much easier life would have been if he could have done that when they were teens!

"Ron. You and Pansy need to get over whatever you two still have going on, and-"

"Hey! She's a cold-blooded snake. You know this!" Ron said. Hermione glared.

"She doesn't know what cold-blooded is, Ron," this sentence made Ron feel uneasy, a flashback to being thrown into and stuck to a wall by the witch in front of him a distant, yet still present, memory. "So stop being a child, and deal with it!

"I think it's wonderful that you've decided to do this. I was beginning to worry that I was going to have to make you come live with us, just so that I know you weren't wasting away in here…" Hermione looked around Ron's house, and then said, "Stop being a tosser, and let Pansy cook for you. You know how amazing she is."

Ron shuddered, still not accustomed to anyone thinking Pansy "amazing", especially the idea of Hermione _and_ Harry being open to the idea of the witch being around; on top of them thinking she was "amazing".

Her _food_ was amazing…

'Which is all that really matters, I guess…' Ron thought absently for a second before saying,

"I'll have to think on it, Herms. I mean- I wanted to "Avada" her for suggesting we turn Harry over, and now I'm thinking about… about hiring her! For a long, long time! She'll be _part_ of the contract!"

Once Pansy had decided to ignore Santo's request to keep Ron company, the elder wizard returned after ten or fifteen minutes… which left Ron plenty of time to eat another piece of cake, a piece of pie, three or four tarts, a bowl of custard, and drink another cocktail.

The two men had discussed a lot of Santo's requirements for the restaurant, as well as the farm;

There were to be no house elves. All food was to be supplied by the farm, and the first Red House would double production for the first year to help supply the second location. Santo would choose the breeders for the animals, as well as the handlers; believing that the tender love and care of the animal made for the best flavor.

Santo would also chose the person in charge of the farm; seeing as his own farmer had a son who had come highly recommended. Santo also chose Pansy… who would continue to work as Ron's assistant manager, the butcher, and the executive chef; working alongside Ron in every aspect of the business…

Ron had a lot to think about.

"Ron," Hermione said, her face becoming stern, her stance slightly aggressive, "She was a kid. We were _all_ kids! And we've all done fucked up things! If you can get over Draco-"Ron gave her a look, which she ignored, "- then you can get over Pansy trying to burn Harry's witchy arse at the stake!

"She's kind of sweet when you get to know her. I actually like her a lot…" This made Ron confused, "If I had a cell, I'd record her laugh and make it my ringtone." Ron rolled his eyes, remembering the odd noises that particular Muggle device made. Cell phones… The last thing they needed was to play Pansy's laugh!

"Don't let some school year drabble make you turn away from something that could be good for you! If you don't do this… I will _make_ you," Hermione said, voice stern; verging on _Minerva_ stern…

Ron had no doubt that his friend's threat was genuine, but it didn't keep him from saying,

"But her laugh is so… _aw_ ful!" Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes, before stepping forward to give him a hug, saying,

"Then don't be so charming and cheeky; that way she won't laugh, and she'll only talk to you when she has to." Ron rolled his eyes.

"That worked great for Draco. Like- _doubly_ great," Ron said, unamused by her words, whilst feeling flattered at the same time. She laughed at him and stepped back.

"Then just shag her. Wait!" Ron didn't have time to flinch before her last exclamation. "Don't! Because that's unprofessional." He suddenly didn't know why he owled Hermione at all!

"Wha- what?"

"What?" Hermione asked, a small shrug to her shoulders.

"What?!" Ron was beside himself; images of him bending Pansy over that blasted silver prep table, her large breasts pressed against the cold metal; ample bottom stuck out to him as he held her wrists, as high as possible, above her head; the pale globes of her arse pink from where he smacked her. "What?!"

"Is 'What' a country? I've never heard of it… Do they speak English in 'What'?" Hermione gave him a raised brow, while Ron was seeing Pansy hanging by restraints around her wrists from a hook on the pan hanger; her toes barely touching the floor while Ron tipped her head back between her arms to lick custard out of the hollow where her collar bones met.

Hermione suddenly gave him a look that said, "Mate... I'm worried about you."

"Ron!" Hermione said loudly… which, in Ron's mind, was Pansy's voice as he gripped her ass; her legs around his waist as he pushed up into her where she was still suspended by her wrists; the pans tinging together and crashing to the floor… disappearing to the sink as she trembled against him, and came around his dick…

"Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm sorry I said anything! Your face is all… _splotchy_..! Ron!" She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes just as Pansy's nipples were being covered in chocolate frosting, "Where are you?" Hermione asked.

…Pansy's twat… covered in the remnants of whipped cream… and something else particularly unmentionable…

"Fuck…" Hermione swore, "You give a dog a bone, and he'll just… _run_ with it…"

The witch dissaparated, leaving Ron in his moment for many minutes… before he had to have an all too good and shameful wank.

-()-()-()-()-()-

A week went by before Ron made his decision; though he had already made it by sending the owl in the first place, even with all of the extra shite that came with having to take on Pansy; on top of legality, designing and constructing the restaurant, farm, warehouses, and the slaughterhouse; as well as the hiring of staff, deciding on seasonal menus, and hiring the crew that would set the spells and construct the floo.

Ron already had plans in his mind for the ward system; because even though another war hadn't broken out in over a decade, it did not mean that he wasn't going to be prepared.

It had been eleven months since he decided to leave the Ministry, _and_ since he'd had such a stressful week; the past eleven months being nothing but lazy days, a family vacation to New Zealand at the Malfoy-Potter non-shack, a few concerts, a weekend in Harry's house in Amsterdam where he met up with that one bird and they watched Muggle horror films together and proceeded to, purposely, sexually disrespect his best friends' house.

Yes, life had been easy… until Ron decided to go through and invest in England's very own "Red House".

He owled Santo and asked him to dine with him (on Ron's sickle), so that he could make his announcement in person. The man responded post haste, accepting the request, and Ron was stepping out of the floo in the front of the Red House the following evening.

Upon arriving, Ron almost tripped while stepping out of the fireplace.

Santo and Pansy, who he assumed would be cooking, or at her house with a night off, stood near the large entryway to the dining room where a large amount of the tables were filled with finely dressed wizards and witches. The candles hovered in the air above them, the wax disappearing the second it dripped from the bottom. Slow, quiet Italian folk music lilted through the air; the guitar slow, and melodic, and the lira playing the harmony.

But Ron wasn't really paying attention to these things like he was Pansy. She had captured his attention far more than any other bright, glowing entity in the room; the smile she gave him as she noticed him enter caused him to nearly trip over his feet! He had never seen her look so genuinely happy, and it threw him.

Her expression, mixed with the form fitting, floor length red dress, made him freeze, stock-still. The garment had no sleeves, but went up and covered her chest and tied behind her neck; something that was _far_ more fetching than the other dress she chose to wear at the christening. Her dark brown hair was up in a bun, and her makeup was simple; besides that all too tempting shade of red lipstick she chose to wear.

She didn't wear her robes, where-as Ron and Santo did; the Italian summer night was warm, and he'd chosen to wear robes for the sake of business. But, he now thought that he shouldn't have worn robes, because he was having a reaction… to the red dress.

Ron loved red, and he felt his own face adopt an embarrassing rogue, as he'd stopped breathing a few seconds prior.

'Does she know that I love red? Like she knew I loved chicken?' His brain thought with its remaining oxygen. He was Gryffindor, sure… but Draco was a Slytherin who wore only black. Ron was pretty sure that was _that_ pouf's favorite color…

"Good evening, Ronald," Santo greeted him, walking forward and extending his hand for a shake. Ron didn't pull his eyes off of Pansy until Santo was shaking his hand; the red-head not even realizing he'd even held his _own_ hand out to the elder man in the first place. Pansy was still giving him that pleasant smile, but she looked away from Ron as the red-head turned to Santo to say,

"Good evening, Santo. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Ron said smiling at the man and shaking his hand back. He pulled away, and, respectfully, turned to Pansy; extending his hand to her. She took it awkwardly, shook it lightly.

"Hello, Weasley," Pansy greeted, pleasantly enough. Ron tried to cool the heat on his neck as he said,

"Evening, Parkinson." She smirked at him, and gave him a curt nod before Santo offered her his arm and turned them, showing Ron Pansy's bare back; which was awful because it tempted his eyes to travel to her lower back, and even lower to her arse.

'Merlin's hat, she has a nice arse!' Ron mentally slapped himself, and then made a note to send a Howler to Hermione for suggesting what she had to him. Ron had almost sent one the morning after she'd planted those forbidden images in his head, but hadn't, mostly because he didn't want her to know that what she'd said had affected him like it had.

But, even Mrs. Malter's words spun no imagery as the sight of walking behind Pansy; the sway of her hips far too tempting in those brief seconds that Ron's eyes had moved with her dress… He had the sudden need to pull Pansy back to the floo, take her home, and tell Santo they'd have to reschedule.

'Hermione's… bloody big mouth!' Ron swore, beginning to think of the exact words his Howler would contain just as Santo began to lead them through the tables- which Ron was trying to look at intently-before the Italian wizard said,

"I thought that Chef Pans should be present when you told me your decision. If it is one thing Pansy is, it is patient. However, she's been quite nervous this past week. She even burned herself yesterday after I told her you were coming." They reached the bottom of the stairs, obviously intending to dine on the second level, and Santo said with a small chuckle,

"She hasn't burned herself in such a long time. She is as nervous as I am to hear your decision." Ron looked up to Pansy, who remained face front.

"Are you ok?" Ron asked her, without really thinking. If she hadn't been, she probably wouldn't be there; or whatever damage had been done had been healed, no doubt. She slowed her steps to look over her shoulder at him with a lifted brow.

As she climbed the steps at Santo's side, looking down at him, Ron tried to keep his eyes on hers as her arse swayed back and forth just below his face; about a foot. He tried not to look down… but he failed, for only a split second, before he looked back to her eyes. If she noticed his slight, she didn't mention it as she said,

"I was quickly healed. Thank you for asking." She faced front just as they reached the top of the stairs, and Ron was greeted with the second level of "Red House"; a far quieter area, more intimate, with only six tables; three of which were empty.

Ron followed Santo, trying to look at anything but the woman in front of him; the skin of her shoulders and back, the sway of her arse, which was round, pronounced by flared hips and a small waist. She was spectacularly curvy, and she looked like she ate, which Ron liked. It made for more to grab on to…

Not that he actually intended to go grabbing all over Pansy Parkinson! Fantasies were just that; imaginary bloody nonsense! And, these particular fantasies were especially garbage, considering who they were of. Ron shook his head, and cursed Hermione once more.

Now that he'd had the opportunity to walk behind Pansy, and the feeling of lust was made worse by the proximity and eye-level only made possible by stairs, he decided that he'd been spending too much time with skinny witches who were afraid to appreciate the finer things in life, like the simple act of eating…

Ron pushed the images that tried to rush through his mind as people greeted Santo and Pansy as they passed, the elder wizard leading them to the table off to the far left, by a wall of windows that looked out over the back yard, and the people below. Santo pulled out a chair for Pansy, and Ron sat across from her, as the elder wizard sat between them at the small, square table.

Ron had thought that sitting next to her would have been more awkward than sitting across from her, but he was put off by the fact that now he had to look right at her if he looked straight ahead… which he didn't like because it gave him another reason to look at her.

He was going to move forward with this arrangement with Santo, but it was going to be difficult if Ron couldn't figure out a way to block out the images Hermione's one sentence seemed to plague him with! He felt like he was looking at Pansy for the first time; even minus the sexual fantasies.

Well- he really _hadn't_ looked at her before… Until now, she'd been in someone else's scene; someone else's turf. Now, he was in _her_ territory; the assuredness of her step, and the way she held her head up as she and Santo smiled at the people who nodded or raised their glasses at them as they passed; it all said to Ron, "Welcome to the Thunder Dome. _My_ Thunder Dome."

Looking at her now, from across the table as Santo signaled to a waiter to begin their service, the red-head didn't know that he was staring, and it took him a moment to realize she was staring back. She looked… genuinely happy in that moment! It was so odd, to think that you'd seen a person true form, and then they show you something else. He was just happy that it was a good side…

"Weasley? What's wrong?" She asked as they continued to look at each other. "Is there something on my face?" She brought her hand up to touch her cheek to feel for foreign matter. Ron shook his head, looking over to Santo, who had turned back to look at him strangely. Ron stammered a second, before looking back to Pansy and saying,

"No. Your face is fine."

She pulled her head back an inch or two, blinked at him, nodded, and looked out the window. For a moment, Ron thought of saying something like, "I didn't mean "fine"… I meant good… Your face is good."

A waiter brought them a wine menu, and after choosing the man conjured the bottle, uncorked it via magic, and poured some in each of the three glasses. He then asked Santo something in Italian, to which the elder wizard nodded, and the water walked away.

The elder wizard grabbed his glass of wine, leaned back in his chair, and asked,

"So? What have you decided Mr. Weasley? Have you found my terms agreeable? Is the fire that the "Red House" cooks with something that you can handle?" Ron looked to his glass of wine, picked it up, and grinned at the elder wizard, saying,

"Yes, sir. I believe I can handle it."

The two men touched glasses.

Santo and Pansy touched glasses.

Ron and Pansy looked at one another with smiles… which fell as they proceeded to take a drink without bothering to touch their own glasses.

"What is this?" Santo asked, sitting forward in his chair, "The two of you will not cheer?"

"Salude," Pansy said, giving a small shrug as she blinked at Santo. Ron looked to the elder wizard, whose face went from quizzical to a smirk, before he said,

"Excuse me. I must use the restroom," He stood, and moved to the stairs, leaving Pansy and Ron to look after him for a moment before looking to each other.

They blinked.

Ron cleared his throat.

Pansy looked down to her wine glass and took another sip.

Silence encompassed them; so completely that Ron was deafeningly aware of the fact that he could hear his blood beating in his ears, and he could feel that his neck was getting hot. 'Bloody hell! Stupid… robes?'

Ron was aware that the room was cooled via magic, but it was hot as hell in the second level. At least to him, anyway!

"So… uh. Cheers, Weasley," Pansy said, holding her glass across the table. Ron gave a wry smile,

"Uh… Cheers."

They touch glasses.

They drink.

A long moment of uncomfortable silence…

"So-"They both begin, and both stop; look away; clear their throats; say, "You first… uh…"

They smile at each other.

"Ladies first," Ron said, taking another drink of wine.

Ron had been on, at least, a hundred dates; and even though this wasn't a date, it was just as awkward, if not worse!

This woman, who he still felt sore with, would be his employee within the next six months… and all he could see himself doing at the moment… was ripping that blasted dress right off of her. 'What?! Why?!'

Ron should have said no to this. This was madness, already, and they had only just begun.

He made a note to set something up for the following night… with one of those skinny witches he didn't actually get along with…

"Uh…" Pansy began, "I'm- I just wanted to say thank you… I- I was nervous because I thought I was going to ruin this for Santo. It took all of my will power not to owl you and beg you to say yes, and it took all of my will power not to give up and run away and give this to Luka… Not that I think Santo would have said yes to that.

"But that's not like me… Not anymore, anyway. But I still work hard to get what I want..." She shrugged, and looked about, "And I want this…"Her eyes turned to his; her voice assured as she continued to stare at him," -and no amount of insecurity is going to stop me. Neither will my pride… so-" She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry- about what I suggested be done to Harry- and for being a total snatch in school. I… I'm sorry. I know that all of that nonsense still bothers you."

Ron felt his breath try and catch, but he fought it, forcing air in and out of his lungs… wondering if she was apologizing because she wanted this promotion, or if she really meant it; wondering if her vulnerable expression was as genuine as the smiles.

So he continued thus,

"Are you saying this just to go to England?"

"There are many things I will do to get ahead when I want to, Weasley. But believe me when I say that my apologies are reserved for the moments I know I was in the wrong. I was in the wrong then."

"Did you say this to Harry?"

"Yes."

"When did you say this to him?"

"Years ago. Once I realized that Draco wasn't leaving them. About a year into their relationship."

This made Ron give pause, because it had taken him over two years to speak to the three them once their relationship became clear to him. Pansy, to him, had hardly blinked about the situation if she had been able to be civil with Harry and Hermione so quickly! They had all had their scuffles and their face offs due to Umbridge…

He remembered the way she used to hang on Draco when they were young, and he wondered if she had felt rejected by them… like Ron had felt at the beginning. He didn't know why it mattered, but with his last observation, he had to ask,

"Does it bother you that he's with them?"

"Oh, no!" She waved her hand indifferently, "I always knew he had something for the two of them… I just didn't realize it was love. I'm very happy for him, because I could tell that their acceptance of him was just as important as him accepting them."

"I accept your apology then," Ron said suddenly, flatly; her simple honesty appeasing him- her truth almost matching his own- for the moment. The thought that Pansy had known that Draco had fancied both of Ron's best friends early on made his mind go back to all of the instances, to all of the moments that should have led him to believe the same!

They stare at one another, before she says with a smirk,

"Your face is all red…" Ron hadn't realized that the conversation they'd just had made him feel warm… Really warm. He takes a drink of his wine, says,

"I didn't… realize…" He clears his throat, looks away from her, not knowing what to say; _anywhere_ but her because he wondered why he was reacting the way he was. She dropped her smirk before she pulled her brows together a bit, saying,

"I- I knew you hated me for that…"

At the mention of his hate for her, Ron suddenly knew exactly what to say, because he'd thought about it before… Probably a few _too_ many times!

"Of _course_ I do," he began with a small frown, not thinking about his choice of words- as most people should do more often- as he let go of what he'd been bottling up about her for so long. "You tried to turn in my best mate- to _die_! Anyone capable of doing that to the only person who could save us all from a future of servitude and death is a person who deserves at _least_ hate.

"I'd like to believe that you aren't that person anymore, because we were kids then, and I'm trying to remember that was twenty years ago. But I can't, because I am reminded of that war every fucking day. My brother died fighting that cunt, and you wanted to help him… because you were a coward.

"Something I can't stand…

"I will die for the people I love, for the sake of a world where people are allowed to live the lives they want to… To love who they want to, to live where they want to, to _be_ whom they want to… and you were willing to give that up to save your own skin.

"You were a kid… and that situation was scary… _I_ was a kid, Harry was a kid… Draco was a kid, and we did what we needed to; which was to stand up and stay strong in the light of adversity, and you decided to cower…"

Pansy's face fell, and fell, and fell until it was downcast; and by the end of his cold rant… Ron felt guilty.

He felt, very suddenly, _guilty_! For telling Pansy exactly what he felt about her! Finally!

But it didn't feel as good as he thought it would as she stared at her hands in her lap, listening to him in silence; not leaving or yelling for him to shut his mouth… just sitting and letting him rip her a new one.

It was done so with more couth than Ron could usually maintain, but still… it had been a new one none-the-less.

He wasn't yet, officially, her boss, so this was a good time to be honest with one another… But now they had to deal with the fact that this was what he felt about her, where-as, from their conversation a week ago, she seemed to hold him in rather high regard.

He felt _guilty_ \- _as_ \- _fuck_!

"Pansy… I-I-"he began when she remained quiet. She looked up at him, her brow raised, but her expression was schooled into one that screamed, "This is my passive-aggressive face!"

"Well- at least we have that out there…" She blinked at him, before saying, "I _will_ do what I need to, to be sure that I save my arse or get what I want… I should tell you that this hasn't changed in me, so don't apologize for saying that.

"But you and I aren't so different; though you think me the lowly snake, and you the mighty lion.

"You will do whatever it takes to save the ones you love. So will I… even if that means handing over the one thing an evil, murderous tyrant- who threatened my family too- wanted. Because I can live with that. I can live with the fact that I am what you say I am, just like you can live with the fact that you like to risk your arse every chance you get. I am what _I_ am; you are what _you_ are.

"I too must use the lavatory." She stopped abruptly, stood, turned, and left Ron to explain to Santo that she had gone to use the loo…

From which she never returned.

 **A/N:** I have to give a shout out to the movie "Pulp Fiction". It is one of my favorites, and I had to use a certain scene once I realized how many times I made Ron ask, "What?!". "Do they speak English in "What"?"

 **(Foxey Lady)**

 **You know you're a cute little heartbreaker  
Foxey  
You know you're a sweet little love-maker  
Foxey**

 **I wanna take you home  
I won't do you no harm, no  
You've got to be all mine, all mine  
Ooh, foxey lady**

 **I see you, heh, on down on the scene  
Foxey  
You make me wanna get up and uh scream  
Foxey  
Ah, baby listen now  
I've made up my mind yeah  
I'm tired of wasting all my precious time  
You've got to be all mine, all mine  
Foxey lady**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Woo! Thank you for the reviews, my dears! I greatly appreciate you, _and_ them. Here is a little more fun, with a little more oomph.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter **or** Jimi Hendrix, or anything affiliated with either.

 **Part 4- Fire**

Two days after he sent the owl, Ron received a visit from Percy, his lawyer, who had been accompanied by George, and the three men began to hash out the terms on Ron's end of the bargain; preparing for the meeting with Santo and his legal party.

When that day came, two weeks had passed since Ron had watched Pansy walk away from dinner, and not one of those days had gone by without him thinking of her.

It wasn't as perverse as it had been initially; though those thoughts did haunt him from time to time, it wasn't very often. He would simply get a random memory of her from that night; like how she lit up when he'd said yes to the arrangement, and how she'd been so collected as she had compared them to each other; knocking Ron down a level or two as he had done to her.

Then he would think of the lunch they had shared in Santo and Luka's absence; when she talked about how she loved Santo's food, just like Ron had. Or how she'd reamed him, in an entirely acceptable way, before stomping off and giving him an up close and personal view of her arse…

'Stop thinking, Ron!' He would chide himself internally, 'Stop thinking about her arse! You're going to be her boss!'

It had taken just as much work for Ron to convince himself that he could deal with Pansy's presence, as it was taking him just as much convincing to believe that just a tiny piece of him wasn't saying yes because he wanted to shag her. Which was awful, because that was a dragon shite, chicken bollocks, cock-sucker motive, right there…

It wasn't right, professional, or even moral for him to act on it. Though it was natural to be attracted to someone- he was not only human, but male- he had to admit to himself that it was also natural to be attracted to a woman as well-endowed as Pansy.

But there was more to it than that, though Ron hated to admit it in that moment. She was an excellent chef, a hard worker, a fast learner… She'd committed her time, even outside of the magical world, to master her art; just as Ron had done to learn all he could in order to create his wards. He respected her for it, and that, in its own way, led to a form of attraction to her.

He was attracted to her, but he wasn't the only one. Ron was sure that Luka had been _entirely_ serious about showing the witch where she could put knife seven while she sucked him off... He was _completely_ convinced of that; the Italian man would have been more than happy to do that to her.

A man knew when another man had feelings for a woman, even Santo had made mention of it. It had been a fleeting moment, the one where he noticed it too…

Ron wouldn't forget it; the way their faces were set and the feeling of the magic in the air as they reacted and clashed passionately with one another. He recalled her face as she glared at Luka across the table; her face set in murderous determination as they yelled at one another.

Ron didn't know why he would do that, think about her being with someone else that is… He could understand sexual thoughts, but thinking of the way she held herself and spoke while with the other man was preposterous! It was like he… actually fancied her, instead of just found her attractive!

As if he cared and that the knowledge of Luka's love/hate for Pansy actually made him jealous!

Ron gave a laugh, standing in the shower as he prepared for the meeting. He had plenty of women to choose from, and he was not about to let a little familiarity with the witch make him act like a dunce. Yes, she had an amazing arse- something he knew he liked- despite the supermodel witches that surrounded him- but that didn't mean he was about to do anything about it!

He thought on this as he prepared for the day, incorporating his usual practices; he pissed, ate a massive meal, shite, showered while also brushing his teeth; dressed in "Business Wizard" attire, applied cologne, dawned his large golden watch with its red face, made sure his hair was right, and tried to push the sound of Pansy saying, "Do you _often_ think of being the reason I'm _sacked_ while you're trying to sleep?"

Well… the last part had been new to his ritual, but it had been a part of it none-the-less.

He shook his head- _hard_ \- before he stepped into the floo en route to the Ministry, where he met Santo, Luka, and Santo's lawyer. The Italian men were accompanied by George and Percy; his elder brothers serving as his representatives, and Percy specifically as his legal advisor.

"Ronald!" Santo greeted him loudly, jovially, stepping forward to shake Ron's hand. Ron grinned at his future business partner. "Today is the day we become business partners!"

"I hope you are ready to sign a lot of paperwork, Mr. Weasley," Santo's lawyer said, stepping close with his hand held out, "I am Valentino Galloni; Santo and Luka's lawyer." He motioned to the Quercia men, and Ron, though he tried to tell himself it wasn't a big deal, wanted to ask where Pansy was.

He pushed it away, grinning and saying instead,

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Galloni. I'm Ron Weasley," They shook hands, "This is my brother Percy," Ron motioned to the elder Weasley man present, "- and our brother George. He is the CEO of Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

"It is a pleasure to meet you gentlemen, and please, call me Valentino," the silver-haired wizard said, and then he motioned to the open double doors that held the conference room, "Since we are all present, shall we begin?"

Ron was anxious and he nodded his head, telling himself it was just the nerves from the meeting at hand… not from the fact that he noted the absence of a certain witch, before the Italian lawyer had said that they were "all" present.

The guilt from that awkward dinner began to pool in Ron's stomach, and he forced his nervous grin as he and his brothers followed the Italian men into the conference room. George patted Ron on the back as the six men sat at the table, as Valentino conjured a large stack of papers.

"Are you nervous, Ron?" Percy asked; a pale, red brow lifting as papers were sorted and stacked before Valentino with a wave of his hand.

"What?" Ron asked, looking to Percy, who shook his head at him, saying,

"Focus, Ron. Honestly! This is a very important meeting, and it's very important that you pay attention."

Ron rolled his eyes, and he looked to George, who wore his trademark grin of amusement. The two younger Weasley men shared a look which said, "Percy pantaloons are tight today", before they turned to Valentino. The lawyer had begun divvying out paperwork between, Ron, Santo, Luka and himself.

Once Ron noticed the youngest Italian getting paperwork, he looked to Santo, pointed to Luka and asked,

"Why is _he_ getting paperwork?" He hadn't meant it sound as snide as it did, but Luka glared at Ron for the question; somewhat startling the youngest red-head.

"Luka must sign them so that he can act as Santo's voice and as the Executive Chef," Valentino explained calmly, passing another paper to Luka... which flew from the young Italian man's hand, across the table and into Ron's as he accio'd it without saying a word.

The force of his non-verbal spell concerned Ron a little, but not nearly as much as the news of the now glowering Luka being his chef. He knew it had felt odd that Pansy wasn't there, and now there was a real reason for that strange, empty pit in his stomach.

"What?" Ron needed to buy a dictionary… so he did! "I beg your _pardon_? I thought… _Pansy_ was my chef!"

"Uh…" Santo stammered, his brows drawing as he looked to the newly annoyed looking Luka, before turning back to Ron and saying lightly, "She backed out. I did not think you would mind…" His choice of words sounded as if he knew something that Ron was sure the man shouldn't know.

'Did she tell him what I said to her?' Ron thought; the guilt of his lashing out at her beginning to weigh on his shoulders as they slumped. She probably _had_ , seeing as she and Santo were close, and that the elder man had somehow, magically (or whatever), changed his mind about "his legacy" staying in Italy to run the original Red House.

"Oh. I doubt he does," George said flatly on Ron's behalf. He knew how Ron had felt about Pansy, because it was the same way George felt about the witch.

"Had" being the operative word in that sentence…

 _Had_ felt…

 _Now_ , he had some sort of respect for her, knowing how much effort and work and thought and cunning she put into being as amazing as she was…

"What?" Ron _sold_ his bloody dictionary! "What?!" He stood, staring down at Santo as the rage set in, asking, "Is she at Red House?"

"No. I decided not to open for lunch today…" Santo said, looking mildly alarmed.

"Where does she live? What is her address?" Ron asked.

"I don't think I should tell you-"

"Tell me, Santo." Ron said gruffly.

The greying wizard looked startled by Ron's tone, but told him anyway, and the red-head made from the room; but not before he magic did its tornado, and sent Valentino's perfect stacks of parchment about the room.

-()-()-()-()-()-

Ron stepped from the fireplace of Pansy's house in Italy; angry for a reason he still couldn't understand, or, at least _admit_ to himself at the moment.

'She… _backed out_?!' he thought as his feet hit Pansy's fireplace, and he stepped out, 'After she- _said_ all of those things?!'

In addition to the smell of cooking food, there was loud swing music playing from a record player somewhere in the small house; making Ron momentarily forget what he'd been doing. It was slow, and it sounded sad…

 _"It had to be you, it had to be you  
I wandered around and finally found… that somebody…"_

Ron moved, slowly, from his place near the fire; walking from the room, through the hallway, following the smell and the noise coming from what he could justly assume was the kitchen. He could distinguish the smells of eggs, and sausages, and bacon…

 _"Who could make me be true  
Could make me be blue…"_

The kitchen was massive, and had a modern design with a black and silver color scheme; the room being far larger than the living room by a long shot. There was ample counter space the was made of what Ron assumed to be black marble, and eight bar stools lined the half-moon island with a sink; the witch standing between the long, flat edge of the island and the eight top range where she cooked.

There was a record player next to a floor to ceiling bookshelf full of records. In another corner, there was a large mixer, a magnetic strip of utensils; a hanging pan and utensil rack above the island sink. The cupboards and drawers were made of stainless steel, and the three meter long refrigerator/freezer was tucked into a nook that had to have been designed around its mass.

 _"And even be glad just to be sad, thinking of you_

 _Some others I've seen might never be mean…"_

In one corner lay an open door that Ron would compare to the biggest walk-in closet he had ever seen; the room serving as a pantry that seemed immaculately organized. There were different sized and shaped containers of labeled ingredients, cookware, and large machines that served a multitude of purposes; a meat grinder and a slicer, a vice, an industrial mixer, a second prep table, as well as what looked to be a wall length refrigerator/ freezer combo.

 _"Might never be cross, or try to be boss  
But they wouldn't do…"_

Ron looked back to the witch who only wore a white tank top, and he could only just barely see the top of a pair of white knickers from where she stood on the other side of island. She swayed to the music as she cooked; her black hair falling to the small of her waist. She wasn't using magic, instead using her hands to hold a pan handle and a spatula; moving the food around in the pans.

 _"For nobody else gave me a thrill  
With all your faults, I love you still…"_

When she turned to put her food on a plate near the island sink, she froze as she noticed him; her eyes locking on his in her journey. Ron watched, mesmerized, all reasoning and train of thought leaving him as he felt two different points in his abdomen twitch; his stomach, and a little lower than that.

The entire scene caused the red-head to become even redder than he was; the heat of his body reacting to her and to the anger that had already begun to fade. It caused blood to rush throughout his extremities, including his face -and another place- as he looked to the nearly naked woman holding the food; his two greatest weaknesses!

 _"It had to be you, wonderful you  
It had to be you…"_

The familiar twist of lust hit Ron very suddenly as she glared at him; her expression only adding to the heat in his core. The electricity came to snuggle with the discomfort in his gut for a few seconds, before it pulsed through his dick… and he decided to gawk at her.

He assumed he'd looked very similar the night he'd met her and Santo for dinner, but her expression had seemed pleased then… This time, it did not amuse her at all!

"You could have _owled_ , Weasley," she snapped. She placed the pan in her hand on a hot pad, and moved around the counter, past Ron, to the record player just behind him in the corner. He turned to watch her; which was awful, because her knickers were thonged, and they gave Ron an eyeful of the arse he had been trying so hard to block out.

It was bare and taunting as she stood with her back to him to pull the needle from the vinyl. She turned around, and crossed her arms under her breasts; pressing the large mounds up and together…

The image would haunt Ron for a while; because now he knew exactly what she had… even the color of her nipples that pointed right at him, set on breasts Ron wanted to press his face into!

 _Now_ his perverse brain was off on another tangent, her skin becoming fuel for the lust fire he'd been desperately trying to piss out…

… His hands slipping up her shirt to grab the supple, soft skin of the small of her waist to pull her flush to him… pressing his lips to hers… pushing her to her hands knees, and pulling her knickers to the side; fisting them and using them as leverage to pull her back onto him…

Ron wanted to slap himself, because he eventually realized he was leering at the woman before him, and he had to force himself to remember why he'd actually _gone_ to see her… 'Oh, yeah!'

"Why did you back out?!" He shouted, his rage returning as reality came back to him. For a moment, she said nothing, glaring death before yelling and waving her arms,

"Are you _joking_? You- think I'm some coward, tosser- _arsehole_! Why in the fuck would I work for you? Why would I force you to work with _me_ if _that_ is what you think every time you look at me?"

Ron felt his face get hotter as his anger flooded back; his cock trying to rage along with him, all while he watched her breasts sway from her arm's movements. But held that unmistakable urge back for the life of him, before yelling,

"I don't think that every time I look at you!" Ron lied, and then yelled, "I _do_ think that you should put some clothes on, though!" He put a hand over his eyes.

He didn't know why he yelled his last statement, but he was flustered that he _did_ always think about her trying to hand Harry over; until recently, when he also thought of her arse in her tight pants, or in that red dress. And, now, he would have to think of that completely grope-worthy flesh as she walked past him! Amongst _other_ things! Very many, _other_ … _sexual_ … _bad_ … _things_ \- he shouldn't think about!

'Why am I here?!'

She blinked up at him, her brow lifting, before she asked,

"Why? I wasn't even sure you realized we were of the same _species_!"

"Oh. I noticed!" Ron yelled, and half-lied (blast-ended skrewts), which sounded almost as bad as him telling the truth; as well as him just flat out lying. Then, he added to the awkwardness by saying, "And I'm noticing it even further by the second! If you're going to be my Chef, it is entirely inappropriate for you to wear so little!"

She glared at him; her nose and mouth scrunching to one side for a moment before she snapped,

"First of all, I'm _not_ your Chef! Luka is. I let _that_ whiney tosser swallow _that_ curse!" Ron scoffed, "And, _second_ of all, get the fuck out of my house with that shite, Weasley! If I want to be _naked_ here, I will! I didn't floo to _your_ house in my knickers! _You_ called on _me_ unannounced!"

" _First of all_ ," Ron started and took a step forward, aggravated that her voice was rising in tone and pitch, standing particularly close as he towered over her to snap, "you _are_ my Chef! That's what I was prepared to sign on for, and that's what I want. I understand you are _aware_ of what it's like to get what you _want_."

Ron didn't know why he wanted her specifically… and he didn't know if what he just said sounded as sexually implicit to her as it had to him… He hadn't meant it like that, but once his words- and the feeling of her proximity- registered in his mind, he had to keep himself from feeling like he should apologize.

Her breathing was heavy, which was awful, because her chest heaved. He willed himself to stop acting like some sex crazed perv, and kept his eyes on hers until she finally answered, "I _do_ …"

The idea of Luka being his Chef had made Ron feel awkward; even more awkward than he felt just then! Especially now that he had already fought himself into accepting Pansy, and into accepting that, if he had to, he would choose her. He'd dealt with the drama- the internal struggle- that came with him having to lie down and accept her, and now he was mentally prepared for it. He hadn't been prepared for her to back out, especially once she said that this was what she wanted; that she was the best he was _ever_ going to _get_.

Besides… Something about Luka made him cringe ever since he watched their fight.

"Good. And second… "Ron continued in a low voice, putting his finger up to point at her. Then realized he was trying to prove a point he couldn't make, and dropped his hand. "I am aware that that _is_ my fault… I- uh…"He looked stammered and looked away from her, irritated that in doing so he also got another eyeful of her… feminine charms…

"I apologize… uh…" He continued to fumble, and he closed his eyes and centered himself, realizing he was about to move to country known as "What" if he couldn't keep his shite together.

When he opened his eyes again, he hated that he had; because she was smirking at him like a viper; her breasts staring at him as she moved her weight to one hip; making it increasingly hard for Ron to ignore the curves of her body…

" _Now_ who's being inappropriate?" She asked, pulling his eyes back from her chest to her eyes, his face hitting a shade of red he knew she was bound to notice. "Yes, Weasley. We are human _mammals_. I have _nipples_." At her motioning to her breasts, Ron looked again, before he growled in frustration and turned away from her to go back to the floo, yelling as he went,

"You better get to that meeting, _Executive Chef Pansy_!"

"Yes, sir!" She answered back, loudly, as if she was in the "Red House" kitchen at that moment… in her knickers… cooking Ron breakfast…

He tried not to grow any more red than he was as he threw floo powder into the fireplace, and turned around to stand in the flames and floo back to the Ministry; which only gave him more time to stare at Pansy's arse as she turned from him to walk down a hallway.

Ron's stomach growled…

He was in _so_ much trouble…

-()-()-()-()-()-

"Ron…" George said, waving his hand in front of Ron's face, whose mind was flashing with images of Pansy on her kitchen table on her back; her tank top bunched up exposing her breasts; Ron between her legs as he pushed into her vigorously; the witch moaning and making high-pitched noises Ron knew he would like more than the other ones.

"Ron," Ginny said, but Ron was busy…

… Pansy's arse slapping, wet, against his abdomen, her ponytail wrapped around his fist as he bucked her into her couch; her soaked opening squeezing him to death as she cried his name out during her orgasm…

" _Ron_!" George finally yelled, grabbing Ron by the shoulder and shaking him.

"What?!" Ron asked, jumping at the sudden contact as his mind snapped back into the congratulatory drinks he was having with George and Ginny at their favorite pub.

"Why in the hell did you go get Pansy?" George asked.

Ron's elder brothers had been shocked when he'd returned to the meeting and told them that Pansy was on her way. Now, George and Ginny- his sister having actually befriended Pansy over the years, alongside Hermione- were asking what had gotten into him to insist that Pansy be his Chef.

At the mention of her name once more, Ron had gone off into dream land; thinking of all the possible ways he and Pansy could desecrate her house with food based, completely insane, sexual activities.

Then, at the memory of the _memory_ … Ron was back at it again; Pansy's tongue licking crème Brule off of his cock, and then Ron licking crème Brule off of the many tantalizing spots on her body; lips, neck, chest, nipples, stomach, hips, thighs, pussy… fingertips…

"Wow…" Ginny said, her voice registering in Ron's brain, but not her words, "I think he likes her…"

"What?!" George had moved with Ron to "What".

"Every time we say her name, he looks off into space like he's having a break down. Which he is… and it's just because he fancies her."

"I'm not buying that."

"Well- you don't have to. 'Cuz I ain't sellin' it. It's a fact."

"Want to bet?"

"Yes, I feel like buying new shoes, George," Ginny said, as if her answer matched his question.

"I think I fancy her…" Ron started, still staring off into space, saying what he thought of the conversation without filtering out the truth, "Pansy, I mean... And it's not even the fact that I would shag her into a couch," George gasped in horror as he slapped three galleons into Ginny's hand (their terms not even agreed upon, but the man still paying up what he thought was appropriate), "-but because she's a talented chef who earned the respect of another very talented chef whom _I_ respect…

"Even when I made a total git out of myself and said some things I probably shouldn't have, she looked past that, and she's going to work for me anyway! _And_! And- when I yelled at her… she didn't even care! She just yelled back!

"She even said she likes my face when it gets all- ginger and angry."

"Wow…" Ginny said, turning to George with raised brows, "This is bloody madness."

"I know!" George chuckled and finished his drink. "And now he's her boss! So this just turned from sweet- to possibly horribly- _bitter_ in _one_ shot…

"At least she fancies him back…"

"Does she?!" Ron asked suddenly, coming out of his stupor to grab George by the front of his shirt.

Just as George was going to respond, a group of paparazzi and journalists accumulated out of nowhere, shouting questions at Ron as he blinked in their flashing cameras:

"Ron Weasley! Is it true you're opening up an English sister to Italy's "Red House" in Diagon Ally?"

"Wha- who-?" Ron stammered.

"George! Will you be opening up shop in Italy?"

George said nothing.

"Ron! Is it true you're being named "Witch Weekly's" most eligible bachelor of the year?"

"What?!" Ron had moved… _Again_.

"Ginny! Will you be marrying Marceline?"

Ginny glared.

"Ron! Is it true Pansy Parkinson is the Executive Chef?"

"Crème Brule…"

"Ron! Have you seen the Malfoy-Potters this summer?"

"Er-"Ron was struggling, semi-drunk and introspective. He wasn't ready for this, and Ginny noticed.

" _Sod off_ , tossers!" The red-head witch yelled, which only resulted in the small horde of cameras to fall back; all of them knowing the level of Ginny's aggression, and her quickness to punch a witch in the face… or a wizard in the dick…

The three stepped back from the crowd where George dissaparated them to Ron's house, landing in his living room with a collective, nonverbal, sigh of, "Merlin's fucking nads!"

"Ron," George said before his little brother could fall back into some weird funk, "If you like Pansy, you should tell her." Ginny nodded in agreement, but Ron groaned and turned to flop down on his fluffy couch. He loved his couch…

"No can do, bro. I'm her _boss_ ," Ron said, trying to be responsible and… not a total fucking tosser about the entire situation. His thoughts were entirely inappropriate, even if the viper didn't mind, and even if she reciprocated his… feelings?

" _Right_ …" George said, sounding less than amused, "I am pretty sure she is just as much the boss as you or Santo! With _her_ list of duties- _she's_ the boss. I'm just putting that out there, though."

"I will be seconding these declarations," Ginny said, sitting on the couch next to Ron, "You should tell her before she comes back to England and someone else gets her! Because someone is bound to notice that arse!"

"Crème Brule…"

"Oi!" George yelled loudly, "Tell her you're the most eligible bachelor! She'll probably be all over that!"

"Oi! She's not a slag anymore! Cut her some slack…" Ginny defended.

"Cut her some- _sack_..?"

"Gross."

"So?"

Ginny blew a raspberry at the elder Weasley man, and yelled, "Go home to your wife, Georgie!" and turned to the youngest to say, "Ron. Stop worrying about it! And- congratulations on your sex-symbol promotion."

"Yeah, bro! Congrats!" George slapped Ron on the back, and then his face became serious again, "Back to the real "issue" at hand; the way Pansy was looking at you earlier, at the meeting, tells me she wouldn't mind if you two whipped up a batch of baby batter."

"Gross! Shut your gob, George! Merlin! I don't know why I persist to drink with the two of you," Ginny grumbled as she stood, saying, "I am going to go home. I have practice in the morning, and the match on Saturday should be a rough one. I should be properly rested to rip Bulgaria a new arsehole!"

"G'night, sis!" George said, and Ron nodded at her with a small smile; his mind had been trying to process the fact that he'd admitted that he'd shag Pansy to his siblings, of all people!

'Well,' Ron thought, 'Better than the Malters…'

It wasn't love that Ron had for Pansy, it was lust; and Ron was struggling with it, and he surely didn't want his closest friends knowing that he would shag their other closest friend! They'd try and do something daft, like set them up!

He didn't fancy her! He just fancied her fanny, and _that_ didn't need any more setting up than it had already gotten!

Ron groaned and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grumbling, "Why am I just now interested in her, George? I've known her… for forever! Why-"

"Little brother… you _know_ why. You may think with your dick from time to time, but you _really_ think with your stomach; and _boy_ does that bird speak your stomach's language, because you practically _ran_ out of that meeting to get her. When we were at the christening, you ran that fast to get _away_ from her!

"Man-" George chuckled and shook his head, "Valentino was pissed about those documents, and that Luke guy looked like he was going to do a magic tornado of his own once he and Santo realized he'd been booted! It was _hilarious_ …"

"Luka," Ron corrected, coming out of his daze feeling oddly joyed at the thought of Luka being angry…

Ron knew how the younger Italian wizard felt about Pansy. Santo had seen it, Ron had seen it, and it was a wonder to Ron that Pansy hadn't. If she had, she must have truly hated the git to ignore him. Luka wasn't a bad looking bloke, so Ron could only assume his Executive Chef didn't fancy the man in return.

Sometimes, being a total tosser isn't the right way to get into a woman's knickers.

Why Ron cared, he tried not to know… (*cough* Jealousy. *cough*)

"Whatever," George said indifferently with a wave of his hand. "All I'm saying is, don't cut yourself off from that." Ron looked to George strangely, confused, because his brother thought Pansy annoying as he did!

"Why are you cool with me wanting to shag her? You think she's obnoxious!"

"Because you're 36 and the only one of us left that's single! Even Ginny has… what's her name…" Ron shook his head at his brother's indifference to their sister's Brazilian, supermodel girlfriend Marceline Manaro.

It must have run in the blood- the supermodel thing- because Fleur and Angelina weren't far off from Marceline. One might call them "MILF"s. Ron had dated a few "supermodels" himself; not because that was his preference- he liked women of all kinds- he just seemed to attract them, and they were pushy and bossy and always had a way of trying to run his life.

Fuck, man! Even Hermione- after five kids- looked amazing. She'd kept up whatever Muggle boxing thing she did, and looked nothing but spectacular. And everyone knew how much she _loved_ to boss a bloke around; so much so that she had two!

"And, you know," George continued, "there are perks to women having big mouths." Ron gaped at George's reply as the elder wizard stood, clapping his brother on the back and saying, "With that, I will leave you to wank. Or- go to Italy so Pansy can get on that for you. Either way… Goodnight, brother."

When George immediately dissaparated, Ron looked to the clock, and noticed it was almost eleven… And he had to force himself to get up and saunter to his room; his hand itching to grab the floo powder, and the words, "Salita Pastina 84011, Amalfi, Italy", on his lips.

 **A/N:** There was a line from the movie "Snatch" in there somewhere; said by Ginny.

 **A/N:** I will be taking a break with this update. This update, and the next update for "The Misfits" (if you even follow that one). I have a busy few weeks ahead (concerts, work, anniversary), and I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to keep up with regular writing or updates. Thank you for reading. : )

 **(Pansy's Honorary Lyrics- "It Had to Be You" in my preferred style by Billie Holiday)**

 **(Fire)**

 **You don't care for me  
I don'-a care about that  
Gotta new fool, ha!  
I like it like that**

 **I have only one burning desire  
Let me stand next to your fire  
Let me stand next to your fire **

**Listen here, baby  
And stop acting so crazy  
You say your mum ain't home,  
It ain't my concern,  
Just play with me and you won't get burned**

 **I have only one itching desire  
Let me stand next to your fire  
Let me stand next to your fire**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Woo! An update! Thank you for your patience for this update. And thank you for the reviews! I appreciate them so much!

 **A/N:** It was **I was BOTWP's** idea for Ron to be nominated Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor. I thought that would be amazing because I love him. So thank her for that. : )

 **Disclaimer:** If I could own anything, it would be this… But I don't, so I'll go be sad now.

 **Part 5- Can You See Me?**

Ron was kinda nervous…

It had been two weeks since the legal meeting, and, therefore, two weeks since he'd seen Pansy. Today was the day that he, Santo, and the witch in question would begin to design and talk about the buildings which needed to be constructed. The three had scheduled a meeting at the Red House in Italy to go over the details in full.

Santo had been pretty open to the idea of Ron designing the Red House in England, as well as letting Pansy design the back of the house, or the kitchen. Santo had suggested that Ron leave the plans for the barn, slaughterhouse, and warehouses to him, and the garden and greenhouses to the farmer and his son.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever had Ron thought he'd have to spend so much time looking at paint, carpet, furniture, accents, windows, drapes, and landscaping such as flowers, trees, and shrubs. Building materials had been the easiest thing on the list for Ron to decide upon; everything else was for the fucking birds!

When he'd bought his house in England, he'd done so because it had a bar and a pool. That had been wicked enough! He hadn't cared about the roses or the furniture or rugs… Molly, Ginny, and Marceline had handled that for him. He'd been happy to oblige their need to give his house "… a feminine touch…", since he didn't have a woman to do it for him.

He thought them sexist, and had said he'd settle for some banana chairs for carpet surfing, a few bean bag seats, and something Hermione had shown him called an "Atari". Especially now that he was "retired", and had plenty of time to do odd muggle things; something he'd gotten from his father for sure!

Hell- Arthur was considered "The Pole Position Pro" as of a few months ago when he'd handed Ron his arse one spring evening over a bottle of scotch.

Anywho! Interior design was not his gig, so he struggled imagining the accents in his mind. He had hoped that he and Santo would be able to come up with something… Or perhaps Pansy could help with the "feminine touches" part…

That wasn't meant how it sounded.

"Ok, Ron…" He was pacing in his living room just before the hearth; willing his mind and his heart to calm before he flood to the meeting.

The meeting with Pansy… The Pansy he couldn't stop thinking about! The legal meeting had gone well enough; but the many times Ron had locked eyes with her across the table had been uncountable! Who did that?! Who- _looked_ at someone else that many times in a few hours?!

"…You can do this. You're a professional! She- she's a professional and this is our job. There is no need for this to be awkward! We're here to work, not to- play... _Bollocks_!"

With a growl of frustration, and clearing shake of his head, Ron flood to the Red House. Upon landing, he was surprised to see that he wasn't greeted by anyone. At all of his other visits, someone had been waiting for him; the Malters, the waiter, Santo, Pansy…

No one was there this time, so Ron took it upon himself to walk towards the kitchens. The dining room was empty, seeing as lunch service had ended, and he slowly pushed the door inward that led to the kitchen. His eyes flitted about until they landed on Luka, the Italian standing over the prep-table, mountains of various vegetables lying on long cutting boards waiting to be chopped, by hand, by the man that Ron didn't quite feel like talking to.

For a moment, Ron thought to turn away from Luka, and going out the front door and walking around the back, especially now that he knew that Santo wasn't in the kitchen. But Ron didn't run away from a fight, even if he was scared shiteless, and Luka didn't scare him in the slightest. With a deep breath Ron stepped into the kitchen completely, and said to Luka,

"Hello, Luka. Is your father around?"

Without looking up from the large, serrated knife that was slicing through a rather large tomato, Luka answered dryly,

"He is with Chef Pansy, out back, on the veranda."

At first, Ron didn't reply. He took a moment to consider ways he could respond to Luka, but decided that some things were better left unsaid. Ron couldn't always help himself from saying the first thing that came to his mind, but, luckily for everyone involved, he took Luka's hint and said kindly,

"May I be allowed to walk through?"

"You may," Luka answered, eyes still trained on his working hands. Ron had to wonder at the man's speed and accuracy with a knife, and could only assume he was well trained by being raised around his muggle grandmother.

"Thank you," Ron said, finally, and he walked, in silence, past Luka and the prep table, and out the back door.

Santo and Pansy sat at the same table they had weeks ago, but in place of food were piles of parchments, and ink wells. The witch was talking quietly, quickly to the grinning wizard, before he stood and turned his grin to Ron and stood. He walked around the table, where Pansy remained seated and staring at Ron (which he did not fail to notice), and said loudly in his thick accent,

"Ronald! It is good to see you. I am so glad you could join us."

As the two men met some paces from the table, they extended their hands to shake, and Ron replied with an equally broad grin,

"I'm glad I could make it."

"Come," Santo said, maintaining his grin as he motioned Ron toward the table; the remaining chair was positioned directly next to Pansy. As he sat their eyes met, and she gave him a kind, yet small, smile, and she greeted him with a meek,

"Hello, Weasley."

"Hey, Parkinson."

"Why can't you call each other by your first names?" Santo asked; a vast majority of Chefs often called each other by their first names. "I don't understand this… _Parkinson_ \- _Weasley_ nonsense!"

They did not think before they spoke, which was often the case, Ron and Pansy grinned, and turned to one another and exclaimed,

"Parsley!"

They fell into a fit of loud laughter, and it wasn't until it was over, and they were staring at one another awkwardly, that Ron realized he'd actually enjoyed a laugh- a fucking _laugh_ \- with Pansy!

About their last names being crudely smashed together! ('What?')

He spared a glance at Santo, who was looking at them with a raised brow, rightfully confused about their inside joke. It shouldn't have been so funny, all things considered, it was just that it was hilarious that they had both thought it, and said it, at the same time.

Which, really, shouldn't have been so amusing. That one word implied A LOT!

It was just another awkward moment to add to the list, but Santo didn't seem to notice. He merely shrugged off their awkwardness and began to tell them about the large parcel of farm land that he and Ron had agreed upon, for which the younger man had already begun proceedings to purchase the acreage. Though they wouldn't need it right away, it was still a good way to begin the meeting.

Ron had caught most of it. Really, he did! He'd only been distracted once, when Pansy turned to look at him as he responded to a question Santo asked him. Their eyes had met, lingered for three or four seconds, and then she'd turned back to Santo, and hadn't turned around since.

The small moments that their eyes met was making Ron feel bizarre! He knew what the looks meant (though he tried to ignore it), and that was all the more reason for him to feel uneasy about it. Another reason was in the fact that George had been right. It was entirely possible she fancied him back.

"And Pansy has already decided on the specs for the kitchen," Santo said, breaking into Ron's thoughts, which was the second time he'd been distracted. "She has a very particular way of doing things."

"Everything has its place," She began, her eyes avoiding his as she lightly pulled a blueprint from the stack and placed it atop the others, "For there to be any kind of rhythm in a kitchen, there must be some kind of strategy. What are we trying to accomplish? How can it be accomplished in the most orderly fashion while keeping practicality, functionality and space in mind?"

The blue prints- which had her signature at the bottom and thereby indicated that she had drawn them up herself- illustrated, in great detail, the exact measurements for the kitchen to accommodate everything she planned to order. Ron noticed that it was similar to the kitchen at her house, but on a far bigger scale.

"I started with my supply list, taking into account the size of my implements, the number of each, and then calculated how much space I would need to hold all of them before I measured each room. From there, I started at the bottom; the broom closet, the storage room," she pointed, Ron followed her finger, "my office." She finally looked up at with a very serious expression as she continued,

"I didn't take the liberty of deciding where your office would be, so you can talk to me about that whenever you'd like to," She looked back down to the blueprints. "Here will be the sanitation station, and the pantry just to the side of it here. Then the walk in will be here and serve as the support system for prep tables that will line the outer wall of the walk in."

She looked back up to him, and Ron had to ignore the fact that she looked really… attractive when she was serious and "all business". He also tried to ignore the fact that she had drawn up impressive specs; the blueprints reminding him of the year he spent drawing up plans for his ward building. It- even kind of reminded him of when he played chess; as if the kitchen were her chess board, and she was in control of both sides.

A red flag went off.

He pushed it away.

"From there I calculated surface space," she was pointing again, and Ron had yet to become distracted, "the top of the range, and, therefore, the size of it; the number of ovens, sinks, and prep tables independent from the walk in tables. Of course, this will all depend on your ideas, for I've placed the door here," she pointed to the double door symbol. "It will be just before the server's station, which will also house the dessert stores for easier access so that I don't have to do that shite!

"I'm sorry, Santo," Pansy said, turning to her right to address her other employer, "but your kitchen would be far more efficient if you would add a separate dessert store that had nothing to do with the walk in." Ron couldn't see Pansy's face, but he could see Santo's, and the Italian wizard smiled down at her and shook his head, saying,

"I will leave my kitchen as it is, Pans. Be satisfied in knowing that you now get your very own to micro-manage and dictate."

That red flag went up in Ron's mind again at Santo's words. Said flag had words on it, stating very loudly, in golden letters, "She's a control freak! Just like all of the other women!"

He ignored it, though, as she replied to Santo in a voice that implied she was smiling,

"You said that last part is if it were a compliment."

"It was meant to be! I know that your love for the kitchen will only make it easier for you to run it. And, therefore, that allows me to rest easy knowing that our," Santo motioned to Ron, "- investment is being properly handled.

"I must say," Santo looked to Ron, "that I am very pleased in the fact that the two of you were able to make up and conquer your differences. I love my son, but he would not have cared how the construction of the new House was accomplished. At least with Pansy, you will know that she cares about everything. Even the broom closet."

Ron avoided her gaze as she looked back at him, not trusting what his expression held as he listened to the elder wizard. Even with his mind telling him that alarms were going off somewhere- flags flapping desperately in the wind- the redhead felt something. He couldn't pin-point it exactly, but he knew that it was causing him to soften around her.

And that wasn't a dick joke; that was an observation of the heart… His _heart_ was softening while he was around her- his brain was ignoring the warnings- as he listened to Santo express his truth on the woman only made it worse.

And this _was_ a "worse" situation.

Never mix business with pleasure.

 _But_ … never say never, either!

"I- uh- I noticed that your home kitchen was very organized, actually," Ron said. He wanted to pretend that it was the summer sun that was making his face red at the moment; not the fact that his mentioning the kitchen brought him a few memories and fantasies he wished he could forget. For proprieties sake, of course!

From some random unbiased bloke's point of view..? Fuck it.

From her boss' point of view..? _Don't_ _-fuck- it_!

Pansy's lips twitched into a smile that turned into a smirk, and she asked,

"Were you impressed by what you saw?" Ron was definitely fighting off a shade change as he replied,

"Fuck yes." It was _her_ turn to fight a shade change, and he took a moment to let the meaning of his words sink into her brain. Then, he had to continue thus, "In fact, I was so impressed that I haven't stopped thinking about it."

Ron decided he liked _her_ face when it got all red; and when her eyes widened in shock, and when she pulled her bottom lip in to bite on it. Her reaction, to anyone who saw it, screamed pleased embarrassment; which only served as confirmation of her attraction for him.

They were in _so_ much trouble.

"I might need you to help me with my kitchen someday soon," Ron continued in an attempt to draw the conversation back to a present that didn't include a tent in his pants. He was hoping like hell that Santo hadn't been told that she'd been in her knickers when he'd gone to get her. Part of him told himself that she may have mentioned it, but he didn't dare look up to confirm this as she asked,

"Do you cook often?"

"I do, actually." She smiled at him, her cheeks still a little pink, and he smiled back as he continued, "I'm single, so I have to. But I'm not as good at it as you or Santo."

"That's right! I heard you were chosen as Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor," she said with an amused smile.

"Really?" Santo asked, remaining the mostly silent spectator as the younger two bantered. "That's an odd custom!"

"I agree," Ron said, and then turned to the witch to ask, "Have you been talking to Ginny?"

"No, actually," her smile never faded, "My mum told me. When will they do your interview?" Ron wanted to be frustrated that that shite news had reached Pansy. And, by her mum of all people! Ron hadn't been too keen on taking the interview, let alone agreeing to the proposition.

"I haven't replied," he said, shrugging. Her eyes widened.

"What?!" Did Pansy want to move with Ron? Maybe... "Why not? That's- well, they chose well, and you shouldn't deny that opportunity!" Ron gave her a grin before he laughed, and replied,

"It's preposterous. Perhaps, if I were younger, I would consider it a compliment. And, perhaps, _when_ I was younger, I might have fancied being considered so… But I couldn't care less, really."

"Pops!" The three turned to their right to see Luka exit the back door and walk toward them. Ron tried not to groan at the man's sudden appearance; for multiple reasons. One being he knew the man to be sore at him for leaving the meeting, and, ultimately, firing him from his early promotion to Exec.

The second was for reasons Ron still didn't want to acknowledge any further…

"What is it, son?" Santo called to him as he moved to stand and walk toward the younger Italian.

Ron looked over to Pansy, who watched the two men as they came to meet each other some meters away from the table, and began to speak to one another. Luka looked over his father's shoulder, the elder wizard's back to the table, and Ron noticed that he was making eye-contact with Pansy; eye contact that lasted about three to four seconds…

Yeah. Ron still wasn't going to admit why the simple act of eye-contact between the two annoyed him, because here and now was not the times for that!

"So… how do you plan on going about designing the front of the house?" Pansy asked once the silence had gone on for a minute or so. Ron continued to watch Santo and Luka, who hadn't looked back to the witch again, but still responded,

"I considered making it a slightly larger version of the original," Ron nodded at the house beyond the two men, "but then I thought that was bit of a cop out. If I am going to put this much time and effort into something I might as well make it as spectacular as possible. "I'm just not so sure on how to go about it yet."

"Did you think to hire an architect?"

"I did, but I know I can do it on my own… I just haven't gotten the right- muse."

"You should hire one, anyway." She said with a shrug. He gave a wry smile, and he watched as Luka and Santo moved into the kitchen, leaving the red-headed spazz case alone with a girl he both fancied and employed.

"I might also need an interior designer. I've decided I shouldn't be left in charge of that bit, either," he said before finally turning to look at her. "Do you know of any?"

"My mum- Never mind." Ron lifted a brow at her, studying her profile as she looked away from him and towards the back of the house.

"Were you about to suggest your mum help me?" He hadn't thought about it until now, but he was going to have to meet the Parkinsons at some point! Probably at the grand opening at which Ron knew the entire Weasley brood would be in attendance. Why wouldn't _her_ family be there?

This was a big deal for her too.

"I- yes," Pansy said, tapping her fingers on the top of the table as she looked up at him with nervous eyes. "Sh- she has a very good eye for interior decoration. When- my father had my house built in Amalfi-"Ron smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes as she continued, "- my mum helped me design everything but the kitchen."

"Is your father an architect, or something?" Ron asked, remembering how her house had been wonderfully built; modern yet cozy, medium in size, and seemed to have plenty of space to move around.

He also remembered seeing grumpy Mr. Parkinson walking about the Ministry, the man seeming entirely unapproachable. When the request had come through for his mansion to be warded, Ron had sent Neville in his place. Neville was much kinder than Ron, and he hadn't wanted to risk having to see her and saying something rude to her in front of her father.

"No-"she paused, scrunched her brows, said, " _Ron_." He blinked at her, because it was either that or laughing at the face she made when she said his name out loud. She looked confused. "He's an intelligent man who just so happened to enjoy Baroque architecture as a child. That led to him researching the subject throughout his youth and into young adulthood, and then to him designing the house I grew up in. He helped my brother design his house as well, though it's not nearly as modern as mine."

"You have a brother? I didn't know that." Ron's eyes widened a little at this; now it was his turn to look confused. She smiled a little, and nodded.

"Yes. Perseus. He's eleven years my junior."

"Oh!"

"Yeah…" She looked away from him and down towards the blue prints, "I'm glad, and sometimes I'm not, that he was so much younger than me… Because I couldn't imagine- what would have happened had he been at Hogwarts with us." She inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and then looked back up at him with a small smile, saying,

"Either way! That wasn't the case, was it?"

Ron wanted to say something to her- he wanted to apologize about the conversation from weeks ago at dinner- now that they'd been left alone; now that things were no longer just business, and they had transitioned into something a little more personal.

"You- you should know…" he started, wondering if he should even bring it up. He licked his lips, and avoided looking at hers as she turned to face her body towards him. "You should know that I'm sorry about what I said to you a few weeks ago- at dinner. I should have apologized sooner, and I feel like a prick because I should be over that by now.

"It was a long time ago, and I know that we're different people who have different motivations for things," he was thinking of the little brother she had probably been thinking of when she tried to turn Harry over. He'd thought her motivations completely selfish until that point, and why wouldn't he? Her boyfriend/best friend at the time had been a total chit.

Shit… He was _still_ a total chit.

"I just wanted to say," Ron licked his lips, "that I'm sorry for thinking so poorly of you."

"I knew you still hated me," she said with a shrug, "I'm not entirely daft. I know why you left the boys' christening early. It was because of me, even if others tried to tell me it wasn't. My suspicions were only confirmed by your absence at Draco's birthday parties, even though you'd go to everything else's. I'm his best friend, and you knew I'd be there, and you didn't go even though I know he doesn't bother you anymore." Ron let his mouth flop open a bit, but no words came out as he felt a little shocked at her observational sills.

"I know how much you love those kids," she smiled at him as she continued, "and I'm not saying this because I want you to feel like a prick, but I kind of avoided their house during certain occasions because I didn't want you to feel like you didn't want to be there.

"I know how important they are to you, and I know that they're your family, and I always felt you deserved to be there more than me. Not that I don't love them, and not that I don't think of them, but I know that they're getting the attention of the better of the two of us.

"I'm- _awful_ with kids!" She gave a small, high-pitched laugh, and shook her head. Ron had to smile at her, even if he felt like his face was melting off and his heart was trying to beat out of his ribcage at her admissions.

"We Slytherins-"she began, "-are pretty observant, you know. I know the girls and those three little devils Draco calls his offspring- I call them his "spawn"- would be in great hands if anything happened to their parents and you were to take custody.

"It would be better than _me_!" She laughed, and turned back to her plans. "Even though I could cook them gourmet meals, I'd feed them pizza for breakfast, and cake every night for dinner… I'd tuck them in with some Bertie Botts, and let them sleep in until noon," she shook her head with a smile, and continued,

"And I'd let them play music so loud their ears bled. There would be no bedtime, and I would have them sacrificially burn their homework and send me photographs of Flitwick having a seizure because of it. Among a few other horrid things you shouldn't teach children!" She gave another laugh and went back to looking at her blue prints.

Ron was staring at her, but was somewhere else _entirely_!

He was fucking _dumb struck_!

He was a fucking arsehole…

What the fuck?

He knew he'd been a little obvious with his distaste for her during the christening, but he hadn't realized that she'd noticed so much as to bring it up to someone (probably Draco or Hermione). All of the years of him thinking she didn't care about shite, when, in fact, she not only cared but she also cared about _him_! And _his_ feelings in the situation!

What the fuck?!

"You- you didn't have to do that, you know," Ron started after nearly a minute, once he was finally able to breathe again. "I would have much preferred you be present."

"Oh, really? Why? So that you, George and… What's his wife's name again?"

"Angelina."

"Right. So that you, George, and Angelina can glare at me?" She asked this as she looked up at him, lifting a dark, challenging brow. He bit the tip of his tongue behind his lips before he inhaled, and exhaled while saying,

"Fuck! I guess?" He did groan now as he turned in his chair to look at her fully. "Vivica's birthday is in a week. You should be there, and George and I won't glare at you, and I won't leave because I'm a tosser, either. You should be there… If you want to be, of course."

"Of course I do! I'm already catering it! The girls may not be my Goddaughters, but they're still my nieces. Draco and I have been close friends since birth! I still send Narcissa flowers for her birthday every year, even if she doesn't remember me, or the fact that she was one of the first people to hold me after I was born..." She trailed off and looked back towards Red House.

"Isn't life mad?" She asked suddenly, turning to look at him. "I think of all that… and I have to wonder if I'm the only one who sees that this world is insane. Not just the people in it, but the _world_."

"Yes. Bloody mad," Ron managed as he sat forward, getting closer to her without realizing it, but not "creepy" close. "Because- _now_ … I feel like I know you even less than I thought I did!"

"And that is a problem for you?" she asked, blinking up at him with slightly drawn brows.

Ron hadn't been as obvious about his feelings as he thought, though he was sure he had been far too obvious. Sure, sexual innuendo wasn't, by any means, an expression of one's feelings, but that should at least be an indicator for some sort of attraction. Technically, the sexual kind; and though he hadn't thought, previously, that the witch was intelligent, it didn't take a bloody genius (*cough* Hermione *cough*) to figure out that Ron had taken a physical fancy to Pansy.

Hell… If _anyone_ should know what flirting and leering looked like, and meant, it should be Pansy Bloody Parkinson!

"For some reason, yes, that is a problem," Ron stated. "Here I was… left to think that you were a selfish witch who didn't deserve to be given such an honor as Godmother," she looked away from him, towards the table, but he continued quickly, "when in all actuality you deserve more credit than I've given you.

"It was kind of you to stay away while I got over all of this. It was kind of you to think of me and allow me the pleasure of being with my God kids "in peace". I realize, now, that I don't know you. And I'm glad that I'm starting to figure it out…"

She looked back up at him, a little shocked at his words; which was good, because now they were even. She blinked at him once, twice, and on the third one, she said,

"I… I'm glad you are, too." She blinked rapidly, and then cleared her throat, and sat back in her chair with a smirk. How close had they been?

"Because," she continued, "I have to admit my patience was wearing thin with you. I can take a lot of shite, Weasley, but I'm tired of having to avoid my Godsons so that they don't have to witness Uncle Ron's sack being cursed every time he flies off of his broom!"

Ron rolled his eyes. He knew he was a bit of a hot head, but shit! Then, with a smirk, another thought passed through his brain, underneath his broken filter, and out his lips,

"How often do you think of my sack?"

'Yes! I got her back! Now _she_ has something _she_ has to think about while in the shower! Wait… Do women do that, too? They have to, right?'

Her face did that- _squish_ thing, but it was accompanied by a goofy, charming, brilliant smile; and then that quickly turned into a smirk before she raised her hands, set the pointer of the right to the thumb of her left, and opened her mouth as if she were about to start tallying. But before she could speak, Santo walked out the back door and yelled,

"Do either of you wish to eat? Luka says he will make us lunch."

The two at the table had turned from one another to look at the elder wizard, but looked back at one another, studied each other's faces, as they assessed the other's feelings on the offer. Pansy looked unsure, and Ron was _sure_ \- positive, actually- that he looked the same, considering all of the awkward moments he'd had since entering the Red House.

Finally, after what seemed quite a while, Pansy shrugged and nodded, and stood; which was awful, because Ron was still sitting forward and his face was far too close to the woman's body as she moved around her chair, walking toward Red House, calling to Santo,

"Sure. I think we're done here for the day anyhow. I'm going to have my parents help him with his plans, and then we can schedule another meeting."

 **(Can You See Me?)**

 **Ah yeah  
Can you hear me?  
Singing this song to you  
Ah you better hold up your ears  
Can you see me baby?  
Singing this song to you  
Ah shucks  
If you can hear me sing  
You better come home like you supposed to do**

 **Can you see me?**  
 **Hey, hey**  
 **I don't believe you can see me**  
 **Wo yeah**  
 **Can you hear me baby?**  
 **I don't believe you can**  
 **You can't see me**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This one got a little long… But for good reason! I like the fact that I got to make Ron a bit of a playboy. : ) And, somehow, Draco is the domestic one having all of the kids. My BETA pointed out the fact that I switched their cliché character types, and that suits me just fine.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own HP or Jimi Hendrix.

 **Part 6- May This Be Love**

Ron hated how nervous seeing Pansy made him.

The last _three_ encounters had caused him to start the day with nervous jitters, and today was no different. If anything, it had been made worse by the butterflies _and_ the fact that he was going to officially meet the witch's parents. Sure, this was from a professional stand point _only_ , but it was nerve-wracking none-the-less.

The architectural meeting in Amalfi- between Ron, Pansy, and Santo- had been five days ago, and he had decided- due to his mind's inability to shake Pansy off- to go out that night, have a few drinks and hopefully find a woman to help him with his "problems". He'd woken up next to a beautiful brunette with large tits and arse, and brown eyes, and he had to wonder if he'd become Black-Out Ron, as he couldn't remember her name. He bid her a farewell, and held his head, only to be startled with an owl tapping at the window.

He'd taken the note from the Tawny owl, which had taken flight and left, and Ron read the words aloud,

"Ron,

My parents have agreed to help you with your plans. How does 10 a.m. on Thursday, at my house, sound?

-Pansy."

Ron stared at the note for a moment, and grabbed some parchment and ink; replied,

Pansy,

I think that I should tell you something.

He grabbed the note, crumpled it, and threw it in the rubbish. He grabbed a new piece of parchment; wrote,

Pansy,

Sounds perfect. I will be there.

-Ron

He tied it to Stubs' leg- Pigwidgeon having died a few years back- and watched as the Barn owl flew south to Italy, and tried to shake off the feelings that stirred at the thought of the owl's destination.

Ron was still trying to fight himself, and therefore, his attraction to Pansy. He had, however, stopped fighting Witch Weekly. His interview was scheduled for that afternoon, and he hated to admit that in doing so, he kind of hoped it would attract a witch who wasn't like his past consorts, and who, coincidently, didn't look like Pansy!

He'd made a very good effort over the past few days in not thinking about her naked. It had taken work- constant, vigilant work- but he'd managed not to think of her whilst in the shower, and he'd found a new and non-exciting way of getting his cock to die every time he thought of her; he simply thought of Harry and Draco kissing and it quashed all desire.

He'd avoided the thought as much as possible before, but now it was his saving grace.

As Ron stepped through the floo to Pansy's house, he had to quell his blood with the thought of his oldest mate kissing his oldest enemy; the blood dashing away from his face, as well as his groin, as he stifled the memories of the last time he'd been there with the Malter men snogging.

Pansy's house would probably haunt him forever, and he continued to work the memories away as he stood in silence in the empty living room. In doing so, he realized that the house smelled amazing, again, and he took a few deep breaths of what he assumed was a cake; the man closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath.

While distracted, his host walked into the room to greet him, and when Ron opened his eyes he froze to stare at her. The witch was wearing _red_ again! And it looked too fucking good on her! Sure, it was only a red blouse, but worn with a tight, black skirt made it hard for him to control the flow of his blood once more, and he tried to force himself to think about cake instead of kissing.

Cake was always a good alternative.

"Hey, Ron. Glad you made it," she greeted. He exhaled rather loudly before saying,

"Hey, Pansy. Thank you for asking your parents to help me with this."

"Of course! They're very good at what they do, and that is of the upmost importance because the reputation of "Red House" is of the upmost importance to me," she replied with a determined tone.

"Of course," he tried. It came out slightly broken, so he cleared his throat, and repeated with a nod, "Of course."

'Of course it is! Why would it be anything else!' Ron yelled at himself, because he'd felt- only slightly- put off by her words, 'The reputation of the Red House is _her_ reputation as well. This is business, Weasley! Keep it together!'

"We're sitting in the kitchen," she said with a small smile, motioning over her shoulder with her thumb. "Would you- care for tea?" Ron nodded, not trusting his voice, and he moved to follow her as she turned. But that turned out to be a bad idea, and he kept his eyes on the back of her head as he followed her towards the kitchen.

As they entered the familiar room, Ron took in the sight before him:

The once immaculate kitchen counters were covered in cooking supplies. There were pink and purple accents everywhere, displays covered in cooling chocolate cupcakes; strawberry cakes in different sizes to be stacked and tiered; bowls of icing, bottles of sprinkles, and boxes of baker's chocolate. The mixer in the corner was whirring with was looked to be vanilla cake batter, and the massive oven was baking what had to be the culprit for Ron's stomach growling upon entering the house.

But, even beyond the cakes and decorations, the large island was covered in drafting parchment, ink wells, quills, and measuring tools; not one surface bare as Pansy's parents sat and talked lightly on stools at the island. They both had salt and pepper hair, and were dressed in perfectly pressed robes, fine jewels and accessories. Her father seemed rather tall, because even though he was sitting, his feet still touched the floor. Her mother, on the other hand, was exceptionally short; her feet resting on the highest most support bar of her stool.

They turned to look at them as they entered, and the elder couple smiled before moving to stand and greet them. Pansy's father, held his hand out to Ron, saying,

"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Weasley. I am Cassius Parkinson," Ron smiled appropriately as he shook the man's hand, "And this is my beautiful wife Rose." Ron took Rose's hand and shook it lightly, the elder witch beaming up at him, holding a striking resemblance to her daughter.

"It is nice to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson. And I would like to thank you for taking time to help- us-"Ron motioned to Pansy, whose face showed the hint of a smile, "- with the plans I just can't seem to get the muse for."

"You can create indestructible wards, Mr. Weasley, but you can't design a house?" Mr. Parkinson asked, frowning and raising his brow at Ron.

"Father," Pansy said warningly, but Ron could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke from just behind him. He fought the urge to look back at her and smirk. Already, Ron could see where Pansy got her ill temper and brazen mouth. She was small in stature like her mother, but had her father's haughty, slightly squished face. Especially when they were not amused.

"I have had your wards on my house for near a decade now," Mr. Parkinson continued, ignoring his daughter and not allowing, in any way, anyone to cut in, "and I must say I am still _most_ impressed. It was a shame that I could not have you set them for me, but I understand you can't set them all. I'm sure Kingsley had something to do with that… The arrogant, foolhardy-"

"It is such a pleasure to finally see you in person!" Rose cut in, grabbing Ron's hand and putting herself between the two men. Cassius looked put off by his wife's attempt to shut him up, but the witch ignored her husband as she said, "I must say that you have grown up to be a handsome young man. The papers don't do anyone justice, it would seem. Pansy, dear. Why didn't you tell me he was so handsome? And so tall! I can't believe you haven't brought him to us sooner!"

He couldn't help it, but Ron looked over his shoulder to Pansy, the smirk finally breaking free, and he noted the look of pink embarrassment on the younger witch's face as she avoided looking up at him.

"Mother!" Pansy's voice sounded like she was close to one of her infamous shrieking whines.

"Daphne should have picked him for Most Eligible Bachelor _years_ ago," Rose continued, ignoring her daughter, "Young man. Why on earth aren't you married? I understand Mrs. Malfoy-Potter may be a tough act to follow, if what Rita said is true-"

"Mum!" This was Pansy's first shrill interjection, though Rose ignored her and continued.

"- but I wouldn't know since Pansy won't tell me anything-"

"Mum!" This was the second shriek from Pansy.

"- but don't let something like that sway you. There are plenty of- _worthy_ women you could woo."

"Uh-"Ron began; his jaw about hitting the floor at the woman's frankness.

He really should have expected that question. But he would have never been ready for her to bring up the Rita Skeeter article that came out about a month after Hermione's "home-coming" had been made public. Ron remembered scoffing in anger at The Prophet's front page picture showing Hermione being flanked by her boyfriends. Not only had that article sparked the rumor mill about where she'd been, but also on whether or not Hermione enjoying the company of two men was a new thing or not. The articles about Ron, Harry, and Hermione had been distasteful, and Rita Skeeter's "Hermione Granger: Runaway Bride" expose had been the icing on the cake for Ron not bucking up his courage and going to see his eldest friends for a number of years.

But _that_ had been over a decade ago, and for Mrs. Parkinson to speak about it so boldly now was off putting. It had taken years for people to shut the fuck up about it!

"Mum!" Pansy shrilled one last time once her mother's words registered in her mind, and she was able to pick her jaw up off the floor. "Stop!" Pansy grabbed her mother's hand, which had remained clasped to Ron's quite tightly, and pulled her back to her seat. "He's here for your help. Merlin!" She pushed the elder witch toward the stool, and Ron was happy when Cassius followed and resumed his seat near his wife.

It was odd how, in about four minutes' time, Ron had figured out why Pansy was so crass, abrasive, loud, and looney. It wasn't that he didn't like her parents, they seemed as spirited as his own (though in different ways, of course); and Molly was sure to be no different once she honed in on Pansy and do the same to her once she realized she was single.

Molly was the reason why Ron never took his girlfriends to the Burrow. She'd set in on them with the questions about "the plans for their future", and "how it must be serious if you're bringing her here", and other such drabble. The time she decided to come outright and ask Astoria Greengrass (who Ron had only dated- and not very seriously- for a year about nine years ago) if she was planning on having kids, to which she answered "Yes!" It was after that that Ron had decided to cut all ties with her.

She was Astoria Goyle now, and had a son and daughter who would undoubtedly be at the party Pansy seemed to be up to her ears in tasks for.

Either way, Ron sighed inwardly and shook his head from where Rose's inquiry had taken him, and began to think about a warding system he could put on Pansy to keep his mum far away from her. The fewer people on the "Parsley" train the better!

"I'm sorry!" Pansy mouthed to Ron earnestly as she turned away from her mother with wide eyes of embarrassment. Ron, who felt like he'd been in this awkward situation before, what with having a loud and outspoken mother himself, gave his coworker a small, reassuring smile. She seemed to relax a little at Ron's gesture.

"She is quite right, Rose," Cassius chastised his wife. "You're bound to drive him away with that folly. We are here for business, my dear." Rose simply waved her hand in indifference, a small smile on her face, and resumed her perusing of an interior design catalog she'd been looking at when Ron had entered.

"You can sit wherever you'd like," Pansy said to Ron as she settled next to her father.

For a moment, Ron considered his options: He could very well leave, and put all of this madness behind him; but that would mean leaving Pansy in the process, and he didn't want to do that. He could sit next to Rose and she could continue to make Pansy- and even himself- red in the face, or he could sit next to the pink faced witch he fancied, and _he_ could proceed to make her red in the face.

It wasn't every day that someone embarrassed Pansy Parkinson. She could usually handle that on her own, if memory served him, but it was especially entertaining to watch her mother do it. Molly had embarrassed Ron in front of her loads of times! Between Howlers and the platform, and the dress robes thing, he was sure Pansy had laughed at his expense _many_ times. It was his turn, even if at the expense of his own comfort.

So, for some reason or another, he moved far away from Pansy down the bar, and he sat next to Rose.

"How is your father, Ronald?" Cassius asked as he began to accio fresh parchment from a stack on the counter, and a blue ink well. Ron didn't know what to say at first; just as he had stammered with Rose minutes before. He really should have expected this, but all he had been able to focus on was how he wasn't going to be an arse around Pansy. He hadn't really prepped for the parental interaction, besides being polite, charming, and generally intelligent.

He had heard the rumors that had floated around about Cassius Parkinson, post war.

"He is well. As you may know by now, he- uh- he assisted me when I decided to make my wards Muggle Invention friendly. He no longer needs to work due to the revenue he receives from his ownership of those patents. He continues to do so because he loves it." Cassius nodded at Ron's words, but said nothing as he began to ready his work space.

"Those- so called Muggle inventions seemed to be the only thing your father cared about."

"You spoke with my father regularly?" Ron didn't like the tone in Cassius' voice, and he felt his anger prick.

"No, young man, I cannot say that I did. However, I do remember hearing about his affinity for the odd Muggle contraptions, and that, of course, led to his promotion. I don't find his branch of the Ministry very relevant," Ron found his temperature rising very suddenly, and he took a little help from Hermione as he continued to breathe through his nose, as Cassius continued to speak, "Useless, actually…"

"Father," Pansy said in a voice that was resembled a wheeze/gasp. Cassius seemed not to hear her.

"It is one of the things that bled over from allowing Muggleborns to-"

"Father!" Pansy said loudly, finally reaching her high pitched tone that drove Ron crazy… Except for this particular time, as Pansy continued,

"Perseus and I happen to enjoy a great number of Muggle inventions. Did you know he owns a car? It's what comes with rushing in the new! And, it just so happens, that happened twenty years ago! Now get in with the new, or get out! You're offending my guest, and I don't appreciate it!"

"I suppose living with that Muggleborn in America helped you with that point of view, my dear." Cassius said in a low tone, his eyelids lowered at his daughter, but only ever so slightly.

"Yes, it was. I learned a lot about Muggles and their inventions actually."

"Then why would you come home?"

I mean, it went without saying that Ron was uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say, but his dislike for Cassius Parkinson was deepening by the second. The way he looked down on Arthur, and then his own daughter, for liking Muggle inventions was not a surprise to Ron. To see the man express it so openly… really shouldn't have surprised him either. Pansy learned it from someone.

But it was a prickly conversation they'd just stepped into, and it was obvious in the way that Rose butted in suddenly,

"It doesn't matter why she came home, dear. I'm just glad that she did. And how fortunate that was, hm?" Rose turned her bright eyes and smile to Ron as she continued, "She owled that she was returning to Europe, and I informed her that I was spending time here in Italy. I told her to meet me at Santo's for supper, and I guess that old habits never die, because she said something about how the name "Red House" reminded her of Gryffindor House.

"It's so odd to think that those days are so far behind us."

Ron scoffed, choosing to ignore Cassius- and Rose for just a moment- completely as he turned to Pansy, and asked with a false belligerent tone and a half-smile, "What's wrong with Gryffindor?"

Pansy blinked at him, and said in a drawl, "You do realize you're in a house full of Slytherins?"

"Is that supposed to frighten me?" Ron smirked at her. "I've been in the actual House of Slytherin, and that was by far scarier than _any_ of you could ever be." He hoped, though he didn't actually look at him, that the rest of the people in the room knew that was directed at Cassius.

"Ah, yes." Pansy's eyes flitted toward her father before she looked back at Ron and matched his smirk, "Ginny told me about that. I'd like to think that I'm not as frightening as the Chamber of Secrets."

"At one point, you were," was the only reply Ron could get out before Cassius interjected, loudly and with a gasp of surprise,

"You've been in the Chamber of Secrets?! I've heard rumors, but-"

"Yes," Ron cut in, not feeling guilty in the slightest about the impropriety of cutting the elder man off. "On two separate occasions, actually. The first time to save my sister from Tom Riddle, and the second time to kill him."

Ron liked to toot his own horn from time to time, especially when he was facing down a pure-blood wizard whom he knew had supported the Dark side of the war, even if he had played no part in the battle. The rumors had stated that the Parkinsons had been financiers to Voldemort, and had stuck around until the war drums had started playing; the family fleeing the country the second their daughter had returned home from Hogwarts, and not returning until their names had been cleared.

However, if the rumors had been true then Kingsley would have had their arses… So, all Ron had to go on was that the whispers had been false, even if the man who sat before him exuded haughty, traditionally Victorian, bigoted, pure-blood supremacy.

Cassius looked not only shocked and impressed, but also at loss for words. His silver brows were high, his eyes widened a bit, his mouth gaped just a tad, and the room was quiet for a few seconds before Rose decided to save her husband once more,

"Have you really? How frightening, and the circumstances, well-"Rose's brown eyes fitted, but for only just a second, to Pansy, before she finished, "- most unfortunate! Cassius has always wondered about the architecture. Do tell him about it."

Ron, who had somehow refrained from looking at the younger witch, allowed his eyes to finally flit to hers for a second, and he took in the smirk he could tell she was repressing by her biting her lip; and how one of her brows rose far higher than the other.

Repressing a smug smirk of his own, as he let Cassius shut his mouth, Ron decided that he would let the elder wizard's lack of propriety slide, and appease him. He told the elder wizard all he could remember of his time spent in the Chamber; of the cylindrical passage and its diameter and length, of the pipe holes that gave the creepy hallway light. He told of the large snakes wrapped around large support pillars, and decided to end his description at the large statue of Slytherin; of his height, and that the mouth of Slytherin served as the nest for the basilisk.

"And what material was used, do you think?" Cassius asked, his earlier hateful tone gone, the lines in his face relaxing as he did. He'd been quiet until now, which Ron had been grateful for. He was also grateful that any and all memory of being in the Chamber made it impossible for Ron to think of Pansy, who'd been staring at him the entire time.

"I couldn't be sure," Ron answered, and he took his mind back to place in question, "but the stone was identical to the stone used for the castle walls."

"We must tell Percy." Rose said, turning to her husband. Ron's eyes went a little wide, until he realized they were talking about Pansy's brother Perseus. "He would be delighted to find out that the rumors were true!" Rose turned to Ron, "Our son, Perseus, has taken to his father's passions, and he has become a most prestigious architect in the Americas. He just recently assisted in the construction of a Wizarding School in- what is the name of that place you lived, my dear?"

"Las Vegas, mother," Pansy said with a drawl. Ron noticed that she didn't look too amused at her mother's mentioning her travels abroad again. Especially with the way Cassius seemed to abhor the subject.

"Yes…" Rose didn't look too pleased, but continued, "He helped Pansy's ex-boyfriend construct his restaurant - what was his name again?" Rose paused and looked to her daughter, whose face turned from unamused to angry, and Ron raised a brow at her in question.

Pansy scoffed, and said in annoyed voice,

"Mother. Can we please get to the task at hand? You're talking too much! Ron, you said you wanted tea, yes?"

()()()()()

"Hermione!" Ron yelled through the Malter house in New Zealand as he walked from the living room's fireplace to find his friends.

The Malter Family had recently been abroad, in Botswana, where Hermione had contracted a house to be built on an empty lot she owned there, and the eight of them had only just returned a few days ago. Ron, seeing as he'd already gone as far as Italy, figured he'd continue through the floo system and make the trip to New Zealand.

Ron had considered going to visit them in Botswana, but he decided to give them family time; and Hermione had said something about seeing an old friend in Chad. The red-head just didn't want to intrude. Besides, he'd been busy with planning, and legal meetings, and up to his ears in owls and contracts. He'd also been busy pushing Pansy from his mind.

He'd probably floo back to England and go out to the pub. It was better than going back to Italy.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, walking from the living room to the parlor…"Hermione!"… to the sitting room… "Kids?"… to the dining room... feeling desperate, he called out, "Draco…"

"Ron!" came the shrieked greeting from the one and only Holly, who stood in the doorway behind him, beside her elder sister Vivica. Holly then ran to him for a hug, her wild green eyes shining, and her long, curly red hair bounding as she hopped and leapt in his direction. She was always so happy, and her fighting spirit and good nature reminded Ron of Ginny so much he couldn't help but feel somewhat partial to girl over her sister.

"Hi, Holly! It's so good to see you!" Ron picked her up, squeezed her, and set her back on her feet before asking, "Where are your parents?"

"Harry is in the study," Vivica answered for her sister, in her usually proper tone, moving into the room, "Draco is visiting grandmum, and Hermione is in the back yard showing the boys how to punch properly. Sev struck Ory and got him in the ear, wherein Ory took Sev by the collar and pushed his face in the dirt. Hermione decided it was high time to teach them to "focus their anger"."

"Vivica; the All-Knowing" is what Ron decided to call Hermione's mini-me; a girl with long, dark, dark brown curly hair, brown eyes, and an inquisitive, mature nature that made you wish hitting kids was legal. She insisted, from the time she was four, that she would call her parents by their first names; refusing the titles of "Daddy", or "Daddy Harry" and "Daddy Draco" that the other kids chose. And, though there were no other mums around, she still called her mum "Hermione"; something that didn't bother them as bad as it would have bothered Ron.

But, they weren't his kids; just his God kids.

Ron gave Vivica a shake of his head, and smiled at her lovingly as he moved to give her a hug; which she returned quickly, yet affectionately. Holly was attached to his leg, and was using it as a stationary object to hold onto while she jumped up and down and around him; dancing under his robes and pulling on them in the process; yelling such things like, "We're training!", "Mum's out back!", "We're gonna kick Sev's arse!", "French fries!"

"Hello, Ronald," Vivica said as she pulled away from their hug, the both of them ignoring the rambunctious red-head who moved about between and around them. "How has your holiday been treating you? If my calculations are correct, I would say that you've been retired for over a year, now."

"Uh-"Ron fumbled, trying to think of a way to answer all of the girls questions and statements. Apparently, Ron didn't think before he spoke often enough, and the last time he said too much in front of Vivica, she'd begun to call her parents by their first names. That was probably why that bothered him so badly...

"It's going well, actually," Ron replied. "Did your mum tell you that I'm buying a restaurant?"

"Yes!" Holly answered with a yell, but continued to bounce around. She was the child with the most energy, but was, without a doubt, the most kind. Even with how mild mannered Orpheus was, he still had the tendency to get quite wild, loud, and throw a temper tantrum. Severus did so every hour on the hour, and Abraxas was somewhere in between; which was appropriate considering he'd been born second.

"Yes, as matter of fact, she did," Vivica, the All Knowing, began, "I also overheard her talking about how Aunt Pansy is going to be your chef. I was under the impression that the two you did not get along, so I have to ask how that is going. Pansy makes the best Crème Brule."

Ron slapped himself in the face, took a deep breath, cleared his mind (which was trying to race with erotic images), and came back into the conversation he was having with an almost eight year old.

"-heard Hermione say that she doesn't know if you'll ever settle down. She says she ruined you. She also said you're almost forty, and it got me thinking that that is too old for a man to be unmarried. If anything, it's far too long for him to be scorned over a woman's disfavor." Ron sighed, but she continued, "If anything, my dear, I would say that you drew the long straw in that particular occurrence. Have you seen Hermione lately? She is simply-"

"Viv," Ron said, patted the elder girl on the head, moving slightly as Holly tried to run between his legs as she chanted his name, and decided to blatantly ignore everything Vivica had just said. If everything didn't go back to Draco Malfoy, it for _damn_ sure went back to Hermione Granger.

"I have not seen your mother in a month," Ron stated. "I would like to see her now, though, considering I am not going to talk to you about my love life, Viv. What-"Ron looked down to her, and to Holly, who just moved to stand next to her sister, "-were the two of you up to, anyway?"

Ron finally realized that the two girls were wearing shirts and shorts; Holly's clothes looking like they were, at one time, Vivica's, since the younger girl seemed to be swimming in the garb. He then figured they'd been training with the boys outside.

"I was sparring with Holly. We need to train as much as possible now that mum is teaching Severus. I have a feeling he's going to learn how to fly soon. Just like Voldemort, because he's an evil little shite."

"Vivica! You know your mum wouldn't appreciate you using that sort of language," Ron half scolded, because it made him feel like a hypocrite, "And you shouldn't talk about your brother that way. You may have three of them, but you'd miss him if he was gone one day." He gave her a small, sad smile.

The dark haired girl tilted her head at him, and he saw her super brain attempt to grasp the scrap of knowledge Ron had given her. He had to smile, because she looked just like his best friends; thoughtful and calculative, mixed with kindness and a general concern for those around her. Some had expected him to be livid about the news of Vivica's creation, but Ron couldn't ever think of hating the product of his best friends' love, especially now that the girl seemed concerned for his well-being.

He really did love her, all of them, and he thought on this, amongst many other things, as he gave the girls pats on the head (with warnings to be safe while attempting to kick one another) and moved to the back yard. He walked out the back doors and into the grass-covered, shaded alcove where the previous house once stood; but had since been moved forward to make the shack a mansion.

It was in this small, yet beautiful, patch of land that he found Harry sitting against a small shade tree with Orpheus on his lap, the two watching Hermione teach Abraxas and Severus- who wore lose t-shirts and shorts- how to punch properly. She had padded mitts on her hands, and she knelt as she let them punch the palms of her hands, instructing them on their technique.

"Hey, Ron!" Harry called with a grin and a wave as he noticed the red-head's appearance, which only made the triplets stop what they were doing and look at him. They all began to scream his name, and began jumping up and down, before they made to run for him.

Ron wasn't often saddened that he hadn't had kids of his own; everyone around him had plenty, thank you! Between his nieces and nephews, and his rainbow of God kids, Ron was full up on children. As the three triplets ran at him, he bent down and caught all three toddlers, only to stand and carry them to two of their parents.

Hermione moved to sit next to Harry on the grass, and Ron sat near them, dumping the kids onto one of their dads as they asked him questions he couldn't understand; their fumbled toddler gibberish mashed together with the three yelling all at once made the adults smile and shake their heads. Ron tried to take in what they were saying as he sat down before the Malters, but couldn't make much out past the fact the three had been fighting, and they were quite proud of themselves.

"What are you feeding your brood, Hermione? Strengthening potion?" Ron asked, reaching over to tickle Orpheus and Abraxas, Severus taking the moment of Ron hunching down to jump up onto the redhead's back, which he didn't mind.

Ron could tell that the three were already bigger since last he saw them, which a few weeks before they'd left for Botswana. He amiably wondered if running the business would take away from the time he spent with his adopted family members. And Draco.

"Uncle Won! You got sweets?" Severus asked, clambering up Ron's back to hold onto his shoulders with his legs, while the other two grasped onto his arms, which he tried to lift to hold onto the one raven haired boy.

Abraxas was another Lucius clone, Orpheus looked like Draco as well, but with brown eyes. Ron had always found it fun that Severus had been the only child with black hair; taking after the Black side of Draco's genes. It made Ron think that Draco and Harry had actually gotten something out of sticking it up each other's arses for so long. Ginny had thought the same thing, and the two had shared a far too long laugh at the idea.

"No. I don't have sweets. I've been talking to Vivica, and from what she's told me, giving you sweets isn't a good idea, Sev. You shouldn't hit your brother." Ron said in a serious, adult tone, to the boy on his back; who only responded by rolling his eyes.

Draco didn't allow anyone to talk to his sons in "baby talk". He said it was improper, and though Ron didn't so much care about Draco's ideals, he didn't feel like being a hypocrite and giving Draco another punch to the gut in front of his sons. The blonde wasn't his brother, but Severus didn't need any more ideas. He was already a handful, what with him being the one triplet that had started showing signs of magic at one; the other two taking their time until a few months ago, on their birthday.

Anyway, the youngest Weasley man had taken to helping reprimand the kids for such actions, even if he knew such things would always happen, simply because it takes a village. Harry, Hermione, and Draco were outnumbered, and Ron was always allowed to talk to them about their decisions as if he were another parent, rather than their God father. Of course, within reason.

"What's with the surprise visit? Aren't you busy planning the grand opening?" Hermione asked, leaning against her husband.

"Yes. Pansy, her parents, and I just spent the morning designing the new restaurant. Amongst all of Vivica's party favors," Ron gave them both a pointed look.

"Party favors?" Harry asked with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her husband and opened her mouth to reply just when Severus did some odd movement, almost like a combat roll, the toddler falling off of Ron's shoulders and startling the red-head into moving to catch him before he hit the ground. In doing so, he had to lift the other two boys in the air as he went; the three giggling and chattering all at once as they were pulled around wildly. Ron held onto the dark haired boy for a moment before setting him on the ground before his crossed legs, glad that he had caught the raven-haired boy, and that his heart could stop racing.

"Blimey, Sev!" Ron exclaimed. The youngest boy had, probably, been unamused by Ron's reprimand. Usually, Severus reserved his worst for his biological father; choosing to throw ridiculous fits for Draco alone. Ron allowed whatever havoc Severus threw at him as long as he threw the majority of it at Blondie; something that fueled his itch to give the boys some of the free merchandise that Georgie always gave him.

"Ok boys." Hermione said sternly; her golden brown eyes flashing to each of her brood, "It's time to settle down for a moment. Adults are talking." The triplets took their mothers words to heart, like anyone should, and they calmed down almost instantly; the two blonde boys scrambled to sit on Ron's lap, and Severus moved for his dad's.

Hermione turned her eyes from her sons to Ron, saying, "You know why we didn't tell you about the birthday parties! Honestly, Ron! You're mad about us for doing what you asked and keeping our mouths shut about her, and now look at your face!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Ron answered like a smart ass. Hermione merely smirked, raised her hand, and within the blink of an eye a small, expensive looking hand mirror appeared in her palm. She tried to pass it to him, and he glared at her until she sent it back to wherever the hell she'd conjured it from.

"I didn't know that you'd asked her parents to help you with the plans," she said to him, her face still amused.

"It- uh- it was Pansy's idea, actually," Ron started, his glare still set. "I realized I wasn't the person to leave that task to, especially once I opened a catalog and I almost had a come apart over lamp shades! It took me three hours to finally tell myself, "Red, Ron. They'd be red."" The two sitting against the tree laughed, and Hermione shook her head at him with a grin.

"So was Pansy's idea a good one then? I've never met her parents. Did all of that go well?" Hermione asked.

"You don't want to meet them. Cassius is a cunt." Harry chipped in. Ron shrugged, and said,

"He's pretty bad… Not terrible, but he's like all of the others in that Pureblood generation. He wanted to know about the Chamber of Secrets, being from Slytherin and all, so I told him."

"You did?" Harry asked, lifting a brow, and pulling a slightly amused face.

"Yeah. He's an architect. He wanted to know the- _nature_ of its construction. But they were pleasant enough. Exactly how you think the parents of Pansy Parkinson would be. Loud, and rather rude, but tolerable."

"Well I'm sure that high-born git is impressed by you. How are you and Pansy getting on, anyway? It must be well if you can stand her parents for hours." Hermione said with an odd twinkle in her eye and tone in her voice, which Ron instantly recognized. It was faint, but he'd listened to Hermione's "I'm intrigued" voice long enough to detect even a _hint_ of it.

"Well…" Ron began with a little apprehension as he stared at the twinkling brown eyes of Hermione Malfoy-Potter, "she's- she's not so bad." Hermione's inquisitorial smile, as if to say, "I told you so!"

"You better be careful, Ron. The fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Whether that be with food or a knife, I cannot say. However, Pansy is well versed with _both_ of those things. Well… _all_ of those things if we include the hearts of men. She has that Luka guy smitten!"

Not only had he not been expecting it (like most things that day), but Ron pretty much hated Hermione's last sentence. He didn't like it _at bloody all_ , so much so that he had to force himself to keep his face in check as his ex's words hit him, their meaning bringing a red flush to his neck that threatened to reach his face.

"I thought she hated him," Harry said with a confused, lifted brow, the man running his hand through the dark locks of his son. Hermione turned to the green-eyed man and said,

"We used to hate Draco. I think she wants him… And she should, because they would make beautiful, dark-haired, chef babies who speak Italian together."

Ron didn't like this topic of conversation AT ALL! His face was, at least, pink, and he was at least angry at the idea.

"Alright, alright…" Ron said, trying to keep his tone even, as well as the image of Luke and Pansy's children- or of them making children- far from mind, "Can we not talk about this? I have to work with them, and the last thing I need is that image in my head!"

"Why not? They're good looking. _I'll_ take that image." Hermione replied with a shrug, as if anyone would have responded verbatim. Ron scoffed, and tried to act at an unsuspicious level of annoyed.

As if the Gods heard his struggle, Severus shot out of his father's loosened grasp, and tore across the yard towards the punching mitts that Hermione had left minutes ago. Abraxas struggled against Ron's hold, and the red-head let him go and turned to watch as the boys, giving himself the time he needed to keep himself from saying something stupid.

"Anyway," Ron began, pointedly ignoring the Luka/Pansy drabble, "I think construction can begin within the next week or so, and it should be finished by the end of the month! You're going to be at the Grand Opening of course?"

"Of course, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "We're going to need the date as soon as possible so we can find a sitter. We'd usually ask Gin, or your mum, or Neville and Luna, or even Pansy from time to time. And they're all going to be at the grand opening, so you stole my back up, back up, back up babysitter, Ron. The boys love Pansy. I think it's her tits. Why do boys love tits so much?" Hermione asked Harry the last question, turning to her one present husband, the man responding with a shrug.

"I don't know," he said, "But I had to pull Severus' hand out of her shirt about a year ago."

'I knew there was a reason I loved that boy,' Ron thought before he groaned, and said,

"You're raising fine men, Mrs. Malter. But I'd greatly appreciate it if we could avoid talking about Pansy at the moment."

"Why? Did you take my advice? Did you shag her into a chocolate cake or something? A prep table perhaps? Or did you take her home like a proper gent?"

And then, just like that… Pansy was the brunette witch Ron woke up beside, but he didn't ask her to leave… She'd stay, wake up and push him onto his back… ride him backwards so he could grip the arse he wanted nothing more to slap, bite... and tongue…

… Pansy on her back, below him, being pressed into the pillows on his bed… her thighs wrapped around his waist as she held onto him for stability… her hips rising to meet his thrusts… her eyes, half-lidded, and glazed over with lust… her mouth letting out a long list of swears, mewls, gasps…. whined pleas that he would do anything to hear over and over and over again… The short nails of her fingers digging into the muscles of his biceps… her thighs trembling as his did… her whines turning into high-pitched cries of release as she… giggled?

As fast as he'd been taken from reality, he was set back down as Hermione's barely contained laughter broke into his fantasy; pulling him, with a flushed face, back to the alcove with his friends.

"I- wha-! Hermione!" Ron yelled when he realized he'd probably been staring off into space for at _least_ two full minutes. So long, in fact, that he didn't realize that Severus was hitting him on the back of the head with sparring mitt, and his parents were too entertained to care.

The red head then stood to storm away from Mrs. Malter, dodging babies as he left; the witch behind him laughing at his back in his red-faced retreat through the back door. Now he knew, for sure, that Hermione knew about his attraction for Pansy, and as he walked past the glass display case in the hallway, he was embarrassed to admit that he couldn't keep himself from forming a very small tornado; which didn't affect the case at all.

Inside of said case lay three wands, a jar-sized terrarium inhabited by a single beetle that sat next to a particular article from the Daily Prophet. Next to that lay a book; a voodoo book from Africa with a strengthening spell that basically said, "There is no way that you could put a ward around Mrs. Malter, so don't even think about it."

()() **(*)** ()()

"He just tornado'd the hallway… You and Draco, I swear! Why do you insist on toying with him?"

"Because he makes it too easy, my love."

"Everything is easy for you. Always has been… But fanning his anger and jealousy always goes south. Think of the Krum situation, and of Aberdeen! He punched me, and he _still_ hasn't apologized for it."

"Pansy said he apologized to her for being a git. He even invited her to stick around for the party. That says, to me, that he really cares."

"Is that to imply that he doesn't care for me?"

"Oh shut it. You deserved that punch… And I'm pretty sure I deserved one too, which was why he probably put his hands in his pockets before he left."

"Huh?"

"He told George and Ginny he genuinely fancies her, too."

"I understand why he hasn't told us; it's because of you. I also understand that you ladies like to talk. But I don't see why you take it upon yourself to toy with him about it."

"Some people don't need to tell me anything. Ron, I can read him like a book. The easiest way to get him to speak the truth about something is to get him right and jealous. He'll tell her he likes her soon enough. I'm just wondering what Draco is going to do when he finds out that England's most Eligible Bachelor is smitten with his sister."

"She's like my sister, but we fuck… Who says that?!"

"Our husband. And he's going to be pissed, Harry! He and Ron may be civil, but he'll probably glare at him until that red-head goes up in flames! Ron hasn't had the best reputation when it comes to women…"

"Then why would you want set them up?! Do you want Pansy to get hurt? Do you _want_ Draco to kill him?"

"No! Of course not! But I can put them both out if I need to... Besides, he has to tell Pansy he likes her for her to kill him over being a shifty arsehole."

"What if it takes him seven years to tell her?"

"Then _we_ are going to have to deal with him, so you'd better help me at the party; unless you want to deal with all of _that_ all over again."

"Shite… Fine."

"Be sure not to go anywhere near her, though, or he might actually kill you this time."

"Ha! He's such a jealous prat."

"Indeed. But we love that prat."

 **A/N:** For those of you who chose to read this without first reading "Le Don": The book in the case has a magic strengthening spell that Hermione once cast on herself.

 **A/N:** Vivica's birthday party is next. Lots and lots of good times. : )

 **(May This Be Love)**

 **Waterfall  
Nothing can harm me at all  
My worries seem so very small  
With my waterfall**

 **I can see**  
 **My rainbow calling me**  
 **Through the misty breeze**  
 **Of my waterfall**

 **Some people say**  
 **Daydreaming's for all the**  
 **Lazy minded fools**  
 **With nothin' else to do**  
 **So let them laugh, laugh at me**  
 **So just as long as I have you**  
 **To see me through**  
 **As long as I have you**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I'd say that this is the longest chapter I've ever written…I'd say I'm sorry, but I ain't. *does a head bob and a finga snap*(Though I do feel bad for my Beta.)

 **A/N:** Thank you for the reviews and follows! I'm glad there are some readers out there who are enjoying this as much as I like thinking about it and writing it. Enjoy some more fun, my friends.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own HP or Jimi Hendrix.

 **Part 7- Purple Haze**

Ron seemed to have arrived last as he stepped out the back doors of Malfoy Manor, and into the elaborately decorated gardens. He knew that a lot of work had been put into it all, and the itinerary that Mills had handed to him as he stepped from the floo had been the first clue in what he was to expect as he was led to the party.

 _Thank you for attending Vivica Jean Malfoy-Potter's 8_ _th_ _birthday party!_

 _All are encouraged to take part in today's scheduled events, but all must have fun._

 _Itinerary:_

 _10 a.m. Open House_

 _10:30 a.m. "Snidget" Hunt_

 _11:00 a.m. Broom Races/Swivenhodge Tourney_

 _12:30 p.m. Piano Recital_

 _1:00 p.m. Midday Supper_

 _2 p.m. Cake_

 _2:30 p.m. Presents_

 _Open House_

He knew the itinerary had to have been Vivica's idea; that or her mother's- or even both of them- just like he knew that Draco and Pansy must have spent hours planning the elder Malter girl's birthday, the evidence was everywhere.

The blonde Mr. Malter had planned extravagant luncheons for his children before, but this one was very different for many reasons- one being that games had been included replacing the mild toys and baby pens with broom races and tourneys; though the hunting of the false Golden Snidget was pretty common. The second oddity in the event was the fact that it was being staged in the gardens of Malfoy Manor; the house being closed for the past eleven years until this point.

In said gardens, it looked as if someone had set off a purple bomb!

Ron knew that purple was Vivica's favorite color, and everyone else would know too, what with the streamers, rose pots, balloons, banners, table clothes, and the large purple canopy under which sat ten large round tables, surrounded by eight chairs each; and each table was set with a unicorn ice sculpture centerpiece, and at their bases they were covered in a bevy of different species of pink and purple flowers.

Beyond those tables, though still under the canopy, was one long serving table, covered in a glittering purple cloth, with a pure silver chocolate fondue fountain centerpiece; which was surrounded by towers of cupcakes, silver bowls of cut fruit, and two separate two-tiered cakes iced in theme colors; spelled platters of tea sandwiches, hors d'oeuvres, miniature desserts that ranged from biscuits to tiny bowls of crème brule (Ron tried not to notice), all floating about from person to person; returning to the table to be refilled once emptied.

Three meters to the right of the buffet table there was a white stage with an equally white baby grand piano that Ron guessed was for the birthday girl's recital. A few meters to the right of the stage was a bar and bar tender, who was stocked to the brim with whatever you could ask for (thanks to Harry), and was sending silver trays of cocktails around the party.

Ten or more meters to the left of the dessert display- a good distance away from the canopy, thank the gods- Ron's brother Charlie stood next to a dragon petting zoo, which had already attracted the attention of Severus, Cho and Oliver's son Alistor (7), Neville and Luna's kids (Ron's other God kids) Clear (9) and Frank (7), and Astoria and Greg's kids Vincente (7), and Aleda(5).

Some distance to the left of Charlie, Theo Nott, Nastasia Nott, ( Theo who had married a witch much younger than himself, a former Ravenclaw) Nastasia holding their newborn, and Justin Finch- Fletchley (who married a Muggle woman named Rebecca who could not attend the parties) were watching as Justin's identical twin girls- Abigail and Henrietta (13; both Hufflepuffs)- played two a side Quidditch match against Blaise and Hannah's son, Zarek (12; Slytherin), and Marceline's son Mateo (14; also Slytherin).

Zarek looked exactly like his father- tall, already handsome, though not as dark of skin- and Mateo, who Ron thought to be stuck up, though intelligent, looked near identical to his mum with his dark, wavy hair, olive skin, near grey eyes, and a charming smile. The two had taken to each other at Vivica's last birthday party, just before Zarek had attended his first year at Hogwarts, and seemed to make a good team at school, _and_ as they scored against their opponents.

Dean and Romilda, who were recently divorced, had a daughter named Jane (8), and she, Holly, and Katie and Lee's two kids, Fredrick (7) -who'd loved Jane for years already- and Alice (4), were bouncing in an inflatable tiny Hogwarts Castle.

There was a temporary Swivenhodge field where the elder "children" played, and George and Percy watched. It was normal for Ron to call Teddy, Victoire, Molly and Freddy "children", but they weren't anymore. Freddy would be 15 in a month, and eighteen-year-old Teddy had just started Auror training, despite his Godfather's pleas for him to do something meaningful with his life. At first Ron had been offended, and then he retired, causing him, Harry, Hermione and Draco to try and push the former Hufflepuff to University to study Herbology, instead of pushing the 5 day a week, 9-5. But, alas…

The other parents to these children were all scattered about: Hermione, Harry, and Draco stood near the end of dessert table as they chatted cheerfully with the mix-matched group of adults; Blaise, Hannah, Neville and Luna were all listening avidly to a smiling, chatting Draco; Ginny, Marceline, Astoria, Audrey and Angelina were laughing loudly with Hermione; and Greg, Ernie, Oliver, Cho and Harry seemed to be talking a tad bit quieter than the rest about something interesting enough.

Ron didn't see Pansy.

This was the first time that so many people had been able to make it to one of the Malters' parties. Usually, they held them at the Manor in New Zealand, or the Malfoy mansion in Greece, and it wasn't always that easy for so many people to get a Portkey for the event, and the Malters had had to send owls months in advance. This time, seeing as the party was in England, everyone had made it to the celebration.

Over the years, the former Hogwarts rivals had been forced to come together for many an occasion. And you would think that would have started with Malfoy-Potter bonding, when in reality it had started at the Zabini wedding.

Hannah and Neville had broken up almost fifteen years ago, wherein Hannah had started a beauty supply line that she grew the products for herself. She'd needed a lawyer to help get expand her business and open her own shop in Scotland, and that was where Blaise came in; the man himself holding the title of "England's Most Eligible Wizard" at the time. He'd helped her expand her business, and about two years after that, her belly expanded.

Neville had been downtrodden, and remained single for many years. Until, that is, the third Wizarding War had threatened the world and caused the nervous man to finally make a move on Luna while he'd been on guard duty at St. Mungo's where the witch still worked as a healer.

"Ron!" Seamus yelled, throwing his hands in the air in excitement as Ron took the steps to the gardens.

The youngest Weasley man decided- then and there, during his descent- that he was going to ask anyone allowed onto the premises with a camera to take a picture of the decorations for him, just so that he could send the picture to Lucius Malfoy who still, somehow, called Azkaban home. Ron had figured out a way to keep camera-toting outsiders from entering the premises. When one walked through the barrier, the camera would disintegrate.

"It's a celebration, bitches! Another smash of a bash put on by none-other than Draco himself," Seamus said, the man having attended Harry and Neville's "Joint Birthday Bash" that Draco threw every year (which was to happen again in a week). The Irishman came to stand next to Ron where he ended his short journey to the bottom of the stone steps, a beer in hand a cheesy grin on his face.

"He's always liked a dramatic presentation," Ron answered without really thinking, his eyes scanning the people who arrived before him with the hopes of catching the attention of a certain witch. "What are _you_ doing here anyway?" Ron asked the Irishman.

Seamus was a wild card, and he hadn't gotten married or had any children. He preferred to roam alone, or prowl alone, or whatever. The bloke grinned and shrugged as he lifted his beer to his lips to sip before answering,

"Dean said he was bringing Jane, so I figured I'd stop in and check it out. They must have figured I'd be coming because I was allowed past the wards."

Ron could only assume his words were true, and gave the man a pat on the back and a grin, replying,

"Where is Dean anyway?"

"In the kitchen. Pansy asked Hermione-" Ron looked back over to the Pansy-less Hermione, "- if she would help her set up and Dean cut in and said he'd help her. I think he noticed how tight her dress was. I know I did," Ron glared as he continued to listen to Seamus, his eyes darting about for any sign of the witch in question, "But I didn't even have to say anything because your sister said it for all of us.

"By the way. Do you think Ginny and Marceline share any views with Hermione on wanting a third wheel in their relationship?"

This was where Ron came back to the conversation at hand, turning his glaring eyes back to Seamus to snap,

"No, Seamus! Merlin!" Ron had been asked this question before; on more than one occasion _by Seamus_! "It's good to see you, mate, but stop asking about my sister and her girl. No one wants to tote your silly arse around."

"We're in the same boat, I'd say. Where's your date Mr. "Most Eligible Wizard"?" Seamus replied with a shite-eating grin. Ron rolled his eyes, and replied,

"I don't need a date for my God daughter's birthday, Sea."

"Yeah, whatever," Seamus replied, taking another sip from his beer. "Will we be seeing you at Harry and Neville's birthday bash next weekend?"

"Ron!" Molly yelled as she walked toward him, hand in hand with Orpheus; the blonde having no interest in broom games. Ron looked to Seamus, said,

"I'll talk to you shortly. We need to be sure Harry and Neville have fun at their party."

"Now you're speaking my language, mate. Harry looks like he needs a brothel."

"Come now. You know Blondie would have a shite. Hermione probably wouldn't mind, but we don't need any marital spats next weekend, ok? Hey mum!"

Ron broke away from Seamus then, and noted as he walked towards his mother that Hermione was walking away from the crowd that surrounded her and her husbands, and he followed her gaze to see that Pansy was walking towards her with a levitated silver trays of sweets. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, noting that she was wearing a tight, knee-length, low cut, purple dress and wedge-heeled shoes. Her hair was down and curled, and she smiled brightly at Hermione as she neared the mother of the hour, just as Molly reached Ron.

For a second or two, Pansy looked over at him, as if he were distinguishable amongst the large number of red-heads present, and their eyes met, and she afforded him a small nod. He returned it, as well as a smile. She returned the smile just before she reached Hermione.

"It's lovely to see you, dear," Molly said as he turned his attention from Pansy and moved to hug his mum. "You haven't been round for supper in- three weeks? You must be busy with the grand opening!"

"I have been, actually," Ron said as he pulled away, kneeling down to give Orpheus a hug. The boy must have been feeling shy that day- what with all of the people, since this was by far the biggest turn out for a party since the boys' christening- because Ory said nothing as he hugged Ron back. The other day in New Zealand, the boy had run to give him a hug. "How are you Ory?" Ron asked the boy.

"Good," was his one-word reply as he went back to holding Molly's hand. Molly and Arthur had, virtually, taken the role of Hermione's parents in the eyes of the Malter kids, and all of the kids loved them like they were their grandparents; and the love was mutual. "Ory" was especially partial to "Grammy Mowy". (Harry called her Mowy Wowie.)

"I get a break-"Ron continued as he stood once more, "-for a few days until they start construction next week. As long as the plans go through by then, of course."

"I saw Pansy," Molly said with her smile still in place, and Ron let his eyes flash over to the chef who had moved with Hermione to the dessert table, "and she's as excited about the grand opening as I am! Oh, Ron," the grey, round woman gave her son another one armed hug, who returned it happily, as she said, "I am so proud of you. And your father and I are so happy that you decided to do this. You've always been my biggest eater. Besides Ginny, of course, but she doesn't like me mentioning that…

"Did she tell you that she may be asking Marceline "the question"?" Ron wanted to groan as his mother continued in a whispered, giddy tone, "Honestly, I cannot wait! I'll insist I get to make them both dresses."

This was why Ron had spent all of the previous night trying to figure out a way to lock his mom in a rune case; and it was only made worse as the Weasley matriarch continued,

"I wouldn't be against the idea of the wedding being in Brazil, since Ginny says that Dimas won't be able to get that much time off of work to be here, and she says Marceline will be dead set on her brother being at the celebration."

Dimas Manaro was the shite-head that had sent Bill the cursed hat when they were kids. About eight years ago, Dimas and Marceline were on holiday in England, and the Manaro man had caught up with Bill; apologizing for acting like such a cunt. Well, Dimas and Marceline had trailed Bill and Fleur to the Malfoy-Potter wedding (which the triad didn't seem to mind in the slightest), and that was where Ginny had met, at least in Ron's eyes, the woman of her dreams. It was three years after the bonding that Marceline moved to England, and had been more than happy when Ginny asked her out on a date.

"I can't blame her," Molly continued as she kept one hand in Ory's, and the other around Ron's not-as-trim-as-it-once-was waist, "for I had brothers myself. Long ago." She gave him a half-sad half-happy grin, and then looked down to the ever-calm and happy boy Ory. "Speaking of brothers, why don't we go find yours? Pansy-" Molly looked back up to Ron, "-was asking if you'd arrived. You should go say hello."

Ron didn't have to guess to where his mother nodded far to his right; the place where Pansy was using her wand to rearrange the table for the newest trays she'd delivered. Since the witch had never been to one of the kids' birthday parties, Hermione and Draco would usually set everything up, but she looked especially happy being there that day, and Ron felt his guilt hit him for a moment; which switched to a sense of pleasure while he watched Pansy work for a second.

He then looked back to his mum once more, which was awful, because she looked oddly suspicious with her twinkling brown eyes and large grin. The woman gave another nod of her head at Pansy, and quick "Go!", before she and Orpheus made toward the dragon pen where Charlie was setting out the cages.

Ron sidled up to Pansy, his hands in his pockets, sweating from the fact that he was hot, not from the fact that he was nervous. He was fine! He was going to say hello, because that was a social expectation. Not because he fancied her! She was his coworker, he was her boss; he had to say something, but nothing embarrassing. He decided to pull a card from "Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches"; something he hadn't needed to resort to in _some_ years.

"Hey, Pansy," he began as he drew near her, the witch turning from the display to him with a large smile, "Everything looks amazing! Brilliant, really- uh…" She had stopped smiling, and was giving him a raised brow. Yeah… His enthusiasm sounded a bit shaky. Not that it wasn't genuine, but because- well… You know!

"Thank you, Ron. And I'm glad for it," she said, looking down at the desserts and then back up to him with her smile returned. "You saw my kitchen. It was a wreck, and now it isn't because the wreck is now here." He smiled at her, shook his head, and wracked his brain for a reply. He also considered turning around and leaving. She looked stunning, and he felt nervous again, and hated that being around her made him grasp into the dark for words.

Any words!

"Yeah, the first time I was at your place," he cleared his throat as his brain flashed images, "it was immaculate. The other day was quite different."

"Yes. It was…" she licked her lips and looked away from him. She grabbed onto the edge of the table and leaned her hip into it ever so slightly before she looked back up at him to say, "I feel I need to apologize for the way my parents acted. They can be… _inflexible_ at times. I've had to get them used to the fact that our world has changed for good. Sure, they hadn't liked the idea of the bloodshed, but that didn't mean they didn't like the idea of what would have happened had Voldemort succeeded."

Ron had left the meeting with Pansy's parents with a pleasant goodbye, and the promise that he'd see Pansy soon. They hadn't been given a moment alone, which was really good because Ron was liable to do and say something stupid. Thank the Gods that now was not one of those times.

"You don't have to apologize," he replied. "They helped immensely! I should thank you again for asking them to do that."

"It was my pleasure, really," she smiled at him, "Even though they're none-too-pleased about me taking off and doing what I want, which I love to do, it's good for them to see that I'm taking this seriously."

"I can tell you take it seriously," Ron looked around at the desserts, "and all your hard work paid off." He looked back up to her smiling, and said, "I'm sure the birthday girl is happy."

"She is. She was waiting patiently when I arrived this morning at about five. Which is unlike me, considering I love to sleep until about ten. Anyway, the birthday girl helped me set up her own party, because you know how Hermione is with the house elves, and I didn't want to go about waking her up. I was especially glad I didn't once the boys had her up not even an hour later. But guess how many cupcakes I let Viv eat before Hermione came downstairs?"

"I can't even begin to think- uh- three?" Ron threw out with a chuckle.

"Lucky guess," she said with a smirk, "But I don't think I snuck it past Mrs. Know-It-All."

Pansy smiled and shook her head before looking over to Mrs. and Messrs. Malter, Hermione having returned to her husbands. Ron caught Harry's eye, and his easy-going friend gave him a wave (which Ron returned); then Harry proceeded to look about to be sure no one was looking at him before he pointed at Pansy, then to Ron, and then raised his two thumbs up at him with a smile.

"Dean was willing to help me-"Ron was suddenly back into the conversation, Pansy having turned back to look at him, and then mentioning Dean (Stupid Seamus!), "- set up, and he should be bringing out the last few trays soon. Or I'd like to think, anyway…"

Ron raised his brow at her this time, chanced a quick glance at the house, and saw that Dean was beginning to walk out the side door that lead to the kitchens (Ron only knew this because of setting the wards on the property).

For the hundredth time in his adult life, Ron blocked out the distant memories of his times spent at the Manor, and he replied,

"Dean was in Gryffindor for a reason. Besides, you can't run forever," He titled his head to the side, put his brows together, and for some reason or another he said, "Speaking of running, you'll have to tell me about your travels abroad some time."

"You _want_ to talk to me? And not only talk, about me? My. How things have changed," she said with a smirk. He returned it with a slight shrug, and he saw her eyes dart towards Dean, and she finished, "But that will have to be some other time. Maybe next week? When we begin sorting resumes?"

Ron took her words as her way of deflecting his advance; throwing in the hint that she didn't want have any sort of conversation with him that didn't have to do with business, and he could accept that. He was a professional. They had to hire employees and the like. Not- talk about her personal life. Or even _his_ for that matter.

'Bollocks!' He thought, though he kept his air pleasant.

"Of course," he responded with a smile before saying, "Let me know when that will be as soon as you can. Santo and I will be at the new farm Tuesday."

"I'll owl you," she said with a nod, and it was then that she moved to help Dean. He was positive that she meant to press her arm into his as she left, leaving Ron to think about the meaning of what she just said.

But that wasn't for very long, because Harry moved through the small group of people and walked toward him.

"Hey, Ron," Harry broke into Ron's mind, which was good, actually. "It's good to see you and Pansy getting along."

Ron looked to Harry with a smile, and went to give him a pleasant greeting when he remembered the last time he was with Harry, and how Hermione had laughed at his back while he left; and in doing so, he realized that there was no way that the raven-haired tosser didn't know what his wife obviously did. By the expectant look on his face, mixed with the mischievous glint in his eye, Ron knew that Harry obviously knew as well.

And it was then that he decided not to talk about Pansy with Harry.

"Hey, mate. Be sure to get me a picture of this bash so that I can send it to Lucius, will you? And who convinced Draco to do this here, anyway? Viv?" Just then, a tray of what looked to be mimosas floated passed, and Ron took one.

"It was Vivica's idea. Narcissa," Harry pointed and Ron followed his finger, "was allowed to come to the birthday party as long as we had it in England."

Ron had wondered where Abraxas had been. He was sitting on Narcissa's lap, the two on a blanket below a tree with the blonde toddler, a smile on her aged face as spoke to him. Abe was paying avid attention to her, and Ron finally got to see the spark that Hermione had claimed the boy had for his grandmum.

"Wow. I haven't seen her since…" Ron trailed off.

It had been a long time. Not since the trial that Ron had given his testimony, and chose to mention that he thought the woman should be absolved. Seeing her now caused him to be momentarily aware of the ticking of the biological clock (not that a 16-year-old Victoire didn't help), and of the mental illness that he knew struck the members of the Black family.

"I know. It makes me think that we shouldn't have spent so much time away from this place," Harry said, clapping a hand on Ron's back, and the red-head tilted his head at his friend as he continued in a whisper, "Don't tell anyone. But we're finally going through with it. We're going to start planning to move back to England."

Ron felt his eyes widen; instantly regretting his decision to take a drink at that moment because he almost choked and spit the contents on Harry. They had talked about this particular subject many times, and the three Malter adults and Ron had spent hours talking, drinking, and throwing out their theories on what would happen if such a thing happened. All in all, that conversation always ended in a standstill; the resolution never achieved. The pros and cons were too many…

Until now.

"Really?" Ron asked as he recovered.

"We have to get Vivica ready for school. We've decided that she has to go to Hogwarts, and that means being around England and its bollocks! You know the kids are going to be curious about her; probably even more so than you all were to me because I didn't have _two_ fathers _and_ a mum. I can just hear it now, "How're your two dads, you pouf?"," Ron snorted, Harry continued, "She has to get- _used_ to everything, you know? Acclimate."

Ron had known that a part of them moving back to England was to ensure that Vivica got the best education possible, and Draco was hell bent on his children attending the same school he did ("All Malfoys have attended Hogwarts! My kids will be no different."). But all of the adults knew what would come from _that_ …

Sure, the kids here, at this party, would be used to her and the circumstances. Everyone _else_..? Meh… Not so much.

A lot was going through Ron's mind!

Strangely enough, Pansy wasn't. But that would be back.

"She's going to fine, Harry." Ron meant his words as he patted Harry on the shoulder in reassurance, "You know she is. And, if our theory is correct, once she's away from Hermione long enough, she'll use magic at her natural capacity. Even though I don't think it will change much. Viv's brilliant, Harry. She can recite Hogwarts; A History already! All that you, Blondie, and Crazy need to be ready for is being the parents of the leader of the revolution."

"What revolution?"

"I don't know," Ron shrugged and gave a scoff before he turned to summon the tray of what looked to be either scotch or whiskey on the rocks, "Whichever one that mad genius decides to lead."

As if on cue, the birthday girl bounded up to Ron, her large, fluffy, purple dress bouncing as she skipped/ran, and Ron was left to wonder if Pansy had picked out her outfit this morning as well. The curly-haired girl threw her arms around Ron's waist and said,

"Ronald! You made it!" She stepped back, and Ron thought about answering her with a "Duh!", but the girl continued without giving him a chance. "Once Pansy told me she was staying this time, I had to ask why. Usually, she just comes early and drops everything off and tells Draco what to do with what, but she says you invited her to stay and I am so happy you did because this birthday has already been the best ever! She has such an eye for detail. I think every bit of icing is exactly the same color, and she did it all by hand without measuring anything! It was quite wicked, Ronald, I think you will be very happy with your decision to make her your Chef.

"If I wasn't planning on being New Zealand's Minister of Magic I would consider being a Chef and becoming Pansy's apprentice someday, but as it were, I have larger plans. So, my dear. What have you brought me?"

Ron and Harry shared a look, and then Harry rolled his eyes at his daughter, though his smile remained, and Ron shook his head with a grin of his own before he reached into his pocket, and grabbed out the shrunken case that held a brand new, purple, acoustic Fender guitar with twelve nylon strings.

Vivica squealed as he enlarged it and presented it to her, saying,

"I know it's not yet time for presents, but I figured I could give you this whenever I want since I'm your God father." She took it, and he and Harry watched her set the child sized case and guitar on the table, and she opened it with a grin, obviously appreciating Ron's choice. "I know you love classical music," Ron continued, "so you had better be playing a _shite_ load of Beethoven for me very soon."

"How does Hendrix sound?" She replied, running her fingers along the strings, plucking a few here and there.

"Sounds good, Viv," Ron replied with a grin.

"Alright kids! It's time for the Snidget hunt!" Hermione's voice was ridiculously loud as she used an Amplifying Charm to get the attention of everyone who'd decided to accept Vivica's invitation. Seamus, seeing as he hadn't gotten an invitation, kept talking Dean's ear off somewhere behind Ron. "The Snidget hunt is about to commence!"

"Thank you, Ronald. I love it!" Vivica said, moving to give Ron another hug. He bent down and picked her up, gave her a not-too-hard squeeze, and set her back down.

"I'll take your guitar to the present table," Harry told her, and she smiled at them both before she bounded off to join the group of children that had already run to the charmed false-Snidget-holding Mrs. Malter.

()()()()()

The winner of the Snidget Hunt had been Clear, and she'd beamed brightly when Hermione had given her the prize of a 5 galleon gift certificate to Weasley Wizard Wheezes. But that had been after the grass covered blonde haired, blue eyed girl had passed Hermione the false Snidget; the "bird" having been crushed when the mob of running children had all bounded into the air to catch it at the same time, and came crashing down into a crying, screaming, grass stain covered heap.

Ron had laughed his arse off, until Healer Luna had had to go to the scratched up children and quickly patch them up. The only child who refused help had been Holly, who ran around to show everyone the new injury, proclaiming, "It'll be a good a scar. Daddy Harry says a lot of people have them."

While the young ones had been running around the yard, the teens and adults had decided on teams for Swivenhodge, and Harry had retrieved the Quaffle from the Quidditch field, which had come from the Malfoy Manor's ancient Quidditch set. The ball was pretty worn out, but it had served its purpose well enough for many a generation, and it did so again as it was decided that- what with so many people wanting to play- that they had to start Swivenhodge while the Snidget hunt had yet to have a winner.

The air between the teams had been palpable, because, without you even having to guess, said teams had split into their old house teams. The matches had been heated, especially when the Slytherin/Gryffindor matches were concerned.

During the final match, wherein Ron and Harry played against Goyle and Draco, Severus and Abraxas had gotten loose from whichever adult had been taming them, and had thrown a gnome just in the way of Goyle's broom; the large man batting it and sending the shrieking creature in Harry's direction. The bespectacled man had witnessed his sons' interference, but that hadn't stopped him from moving to send the gnome flying at his husband, who returned it without a second thought.

Throughout the gnome's shrieking, Ron had laughed, and been more than happy to move and swat it back at the blonde. Draco was going to move to bat it back, a grin on his face, until his wife acciod the gnome from midair. The frowning woman stupefied the gnome, and had passed the creature to an equally unhappy looking Luna; the blonde woman then walking off to take the creature back to a safe part of the gardens.

"Honey," Draco nearly whined to his annoyed looking wife.

"Love," Harry said, moving to stand and look to Hermione as well. Their wife had her arms folded, and her foot tapped in irritation as she continued to glare.

"Sweet love," Draco really _did_ whine this time.

"Pumpkin butt," Harry tried his own whine, the man obviously having had a drink or two to think that he should call his wife such a name in mixed company; the witch turning red as a few of the people around them laughed, and Ron tried not to because he'd never heard that term of endearment used on her before.

Finally, she practically yelled,

"Don't you "pumpkin butt" me!"

At this, Ron had looked to Pansy, and she was hiding a laugh behind her hand as her eyes darted between the Malters, and the little boys who truly started it all walked away, escaping punishment. Ron wondered how much trouble those two boys would get into together.

Either way, Ron and Harry had won the Swivenhodge tourney (10 to 9; the entire lot agreeing that playing to 50 was a ridiculous notion), and the dark-haired Mr. Malter had had to console the blonde one with kisses.

Ron took the memory for later use when Pansy had walked up to him and congratulated him on his win. The dress she was wearing had been taunting Ron all day, and for her to walk up to him and lean close to tell him congratulations over the loud chatter of the crowd had caused Ron's eyes to wander down the front of her low-cut dress. He decided he shouldn't be too close to her, so he'd said, "Urp- Thanks…", and then turned away from her to find Harry for a victory drink before the recital.

Vivica's recital had been bloody impressive, actually. Ron had thought it a strange thing for the girl to do; to play a show at her own birthday… That is until she'd dedicated her chosen song to Narcissa, who had loved every moment. The woman didn't seem to know who Vivica was, and had insisted on calling both Draco and Abraxas "Lucius", but she'd grinned as the eight-year-old played Beethoven's "Fur Elise" and Marceline played the violin as they performed Shubert's rendition of "Ave Maria"; both near perfectly.

After this, Vivica had settled with her family at their table next to Ron's- which he shared with Luna, Neville, Clear, Frank, Dean, Jane, and Seamus- which was also next to Pansy's table. She sat at the farthest point from Ron at "The Slytherin Table", but every now and again Goyle- whose large form was obscuring her from view- would move just so, and Ron and Pansy would catch each other's eye for a moment, only for both to look away almost immediately.

Lunch was served, after which Vivica had blown out her candles to a very large crowd singing her a birthday song. The girl had glowed, and had not missed a single candle as the chorus came to a close. She announced that the dessert table was now open, and everyone waded around to grab whatever dessert they liked.

Ron had chosen crème brule…

He couldn't help it! He was purist, and Pansy (or Vivica) had decided to make the delectable dessert in vanilla rather than pumpkin, and he sat back down at his table with one in each hand. There were at least fifty of them, so he didn't feel bad in taking two. The only thing he felt bad about was not being able to take Pansy into one of the many rooms in the manor and covering her in what he'd procured.

"I have not been able to stop staring at her arse all day long," Seamus said at some point, in a near-whisper, to Dean. Seamus sat between Ron and the grinning dark-skinned man, who quickly "whispered" back,

"I know! I'd walk into the Manor a hundred times if it meant following _her_ in. I'm starting to wonder why she hasn't been to any of these parties before. I know she doesn't have kids, but she's the Godmum for the boys, and she's been making the food for them for years, apparently."

"I'd like to practice giving her kids." That, apparently, was the only part Seamus caught.

Ron did not like this conversation.

As the day had unfurled, and the adults had had enough alcohol to begin to loosen up around one another, Ron had heard many interesting conversations. Besides the one between Harry, Draco and Pumpkin Butt, there had been…

… " _I knew Harry was gay. I should have figured_ I _was at that point, though, too… There had to be a reason I took to you..." Ginny said to Cho_ …

Marceline was standing close enough to hear her woman, but the words fazed her not; Ginny liked to flirt, and Marceline did too.

Sometime later, Ron had heard Marceline say to Angelina,

…" _I really love your hair, Ang," the Brazillian woman cooed as she leaned in close to her almost sister-in-law; a glass of wine in one hand, and with the other she took a long strand of Angelina's curly hair, and continued, "Do you wake up with it like that?"_

" _Uh-"Angie paused, and her eyes flicked to George, who gave a "hmph" and walked away with a glare on his face, "Sometimes…"_

" _I'd like to see that..." Marceline said, and Ron saw Ginny- who stood just beside Marcy at the bar- roll her eyes, and continued talking Seamus without a word to her girlfriend._

 _Angelina's dark skin flushed pink as Marceline stayed close and continued to play with the strand of hair; the dark skinned woman finally finding her words and gulping out,_

" _You- you would?"_ …

At one point, Astoria and Daphne had approached Ron…

…" _Daph tells me that she and the editors voted you as the Most Eligible Wizard. I told her that she should have done so long ago."_

" _Yes," Daphne snorted. "Should I have done that before or after he dumped you?" Astoria scoffed at her sister, and Ron turned a little pink in an attempt not to laugh at Mrs. Goyle's expression. "Anyway, Ron. Thank you for letting Marietta do the interview. She came back raving that you will be her most interesting article yet!"_ …

Ron hadn't known what else to do other than smile and say, "Thanks."

Having Marietta ask him a hundred questions about his love and personal life had been odd, especially since he hadn't seen much of her since she ratted them out. But the interview had gone well, and the article was due out some time next week.

Ron had also been present for the conversation that had been had just before Seamus and Dean went out to play their second round of Swivenhodge; just after they had left Teddy and Victoire in the dust…

…" _Seamus! Put that out, mate! There are_ kids _here!"_

" _Oh. Sorry, Harry. Here Neville. Take this from me."_

" _You shouldn't give that to me. I'll smoke it," Neville said with a shake of his head. Luna was standing just beside him, but she didn't seem to mind either way, she just continued to smile as she watched Draco and Goyle annihilate Ernie and Justin._

" _Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione exclaimed, and she banished the joint from Seamus' hand with a flick of her own. "Seamus!"_ …

Hermione had had another interesting conversation that Ron couldn't help but listen in on…

… " _I'm so grateful to you for getting me hooked on Hannah's line," Hermione said to Pansy while the crowd watched Seamus and Dean get their arses kicked by Theo and Blaise, "Without it, my boobs would be like playing with jell-o shots, and my stomach would look like a tiger tried to shag me sideways while I was stretched on the rack!"_

" _Well the dittany is a miracle worker, and the aloe-" Hannah had begun, and Ron blocked out the rest_ …

Pansy had looked horrified at Mrs. Malter's exclamation, and her reaction suited Ron just fine. The less she wanted kids, the better off he was…

His conviction in not wanting his own children grew when he had watched Abraxas try and sneak a dish of Bertie Botts while Hermione's back was turned- the witch either having actual eyes on the back of her head, or spelling them there, he wouldn't know- but the powerful woman froze the child mid-reach in his place just behind her, and when she turned and released him seconds later he set the rose bush beside the table aflame while he set his face in a scowl, and pointed at her to yell,

"No, 'Ermi'ne! No! Un'ceptable!"

Yes, most of those conversations had been rather humorous to Ron, but this conversation, the one between Dean and Seamus, was Ron's least favorite by far.

For _now_ at least…

"As if she'd want to have your kids, Seamus," Ron said, slightly angry that his friends had noticed the things he had.

"Why? Do _you_ want to give her kids, Ronnie?" Seamus chuckled quietly, and Dean joined him. Ron rolled his eyes as he went back to his dessert. Apparently, Seamus couldn't stop being a mischievous bastard, as he continued, "Want to give her a little _crème_?"

Seamus' spoon came into Ron's line of vision as he stared at his dessert, his mind flying off on a Nimbus to Pansy naked and covered in crème brule land, and the Irishman used it to scoop a bit of Ron's food, only to move to the spoon just so to fling it at the daydreaming redhead.

It flew from Seamus' spoon, through the air, and landed on the crotch of Ron's pants, which caused the man to come back to reality to look down at it. It looked all too suggestive, and it made Ron scrunch his face up before he looked over to the goofy grin of the most irritating, Irish shite on the planet!

Without thinking (of course!), Ron grabbed his spoon, and he flicked his wrist to retaliate appropriately; sending dessert at Seamus at high speeds. But, for some Merlin forsaken reason that day, Seamus was just fast enough to duck out of the way, allowing the crème brule to fly through the air and hit Greg in the back of the head.

The larger man stiffened as he was hit, jolting forward in his seat a few inches before gripping onto the arms of his chairs and slowly turning his gaze towards a rigid Ron and a cackling, ducked low in his chair, Seamus. The red-head, whom Greg was currently "mad-dogging", let his eyes flit towards the witch he fancied; her dark brown eyes obscured by lowered lids as they shot curses at him. He had about three seconds to register the fact that the woman was not happy with his actions, before there was a loud "SPLAT!" as the chocolate pudding that Greg decided to retaliate with hit Ron square in the face.

He was momentarily blinded, his mind flashing about the image of an angry Pansy, and he wiped his face with his hand. He was glad that he'd been quick enough to close his eyes, and while making quick work of the pudding he heard Seamus yell at the top of his lungs,

" _Food fight_!"

Within seconds, the beautiful, formal luncheon became complete and total chaos: all the young children present taking one of the "adult children's" advice and taking up their desserts and throwing them at one another; from across tables, from across the yard, at the yard (Orpheus, who loved to feed the foliage). Seamus, the tosser, grabbed a handful of cake from Dean's plate and pushed it into his face, only for the two best friends to start a war between themselves; standing to run around, using their wands to send food from newly abandoned plates- and the display tables- at one another.

At this point, where Seamus and Dean began gallivanting around like idiots, most had stood, the adults taking it upon themselves to act like a giant group of children; Greg's table (minus Pansy), had joined in on the mayhem, and it was only aided by George who had started passing out his pocketful of tricks to his kids.

Vivica, who was ducked below the table next to Harry, who was retaliating, gave her father a glare. Ron watched as the bespectacled man acciod a cupcake from the display table and shoved it into the birthday girl's glare; the usually mischievous man obviously none-too keen on his eldest not enjoying all of the chaos. For just a second the little girl looked abashed, her mouth hanging open and her hands out to the sides as she gasped in shock.

She stood abruptly, and the red-head watched as her anger and magic flared; the cupcake on her face disappearing as seven more flew from the display and began to circle above her head in the air. Harry, realizing he was in trouble, burst into a fit of laughter before scrambling out of the way as Vivica began sending heavy cupcake fire at his back; the girl screaming,

"Harry! You haven't the _slightest_ idea of what you just started! Get back here and face me like a man!"

He didn't turn around. He just kept running toward the Swivenhodge hedge to hide.

Arthur threw cake at Percy, who threw cake at both Mollys, who laughed joyously and retaliated; his mother missing, and her cake landed on Daphne, who'd managed to keep herself clean up until that point. She didn't look too happy, what with the chocolate cake landing on the arse of her pink skirt, and she turned with her wand to remove the stain from her expensive get up.

Teddy and Victoire were running, hand in hand, out of sight around the corner of the Manor.

Nastasia was standing next to Luna and Narcissa, the healer having put up a shield for the Malfoy matriarch who was also her patient; though they all grinned as they watched the mayhem.

Ginny had Marceline on the ground, and was shoving pudding down the front of the flailing Brazilian woman's dress, the both of them snorting and giggling. They'd had a lot to drink…

There was a food battle going on between the boy and girl children, and they moved in a wave around the adults, covering everyone and everything in their path as they raced and screamed and yelled and sputtered out desserts. Somewhere near the fondue fountain, Draco had grabbed Hermione up by the waist and was using her as a giggling shield; the powerful witch not caring to use a magical shield to save her sundress from the temporary stains.

It was then that things got _really_ out of hand.

Suddenly, there was a burst of fire beyond the crowd of running and screaming people, and Ron- who had been covered in food at this point- turned his eyes to the baby dragon pen where he spotted a food covered Severus and Abraxas releasing the small creatures, one by one, with what seemed to be practiced fire magic. Abe would point at a chain leash, and Sev's tiny pale hand would reach out to grab it, causing the metal to glow and the links to crumble, and Ron could swear he heard them yelling,

"Free daddy! Free daddy!"

"Charlie!" Ron yelled to his brother over the chaos; the dragon tamer chasing Ginny with the bottom tier of a cake. But the four dragons were in the air before Charlie realized what was happening, and he stopped running and dropped the cake to run towards the toddlers. Two of the baby dragons began to spit small fireballs, and Charlie was just barely able to grab Sev and Abe up before the flames plummeted and hit the two on the head; the elder wizard's dragon hide boot and pants taking the blows unscathed.

It was in that second that Hermione apparated she and Draco from the display table to land beside Charlie, and Blondie set his wife down so that she could take Abe, and Draco could take Sev. Charlie then began wrangling the whelps; the four of which had started to move towards the trees, Swivenhodge hedge, and tables. One attempted to set a table cloth on fire, but someone had had the foresight to make it fireproof (probably Hermione), and Charlie was able to accio the whelp and summon its cage.

Hermione began moving herself and Abe back into the battle, the Draco clone grinning as they went. The real Draco was having quite a time keeping his most rambunctious son at ease: the youngest triplet was not happy being detained and it became apparent that he wasn't going to stand for Draco's oppression. The dark-haired boy was shrieking, screaming, swearing, kicking, punching, and all and out being a right shite. His little fists were going mad, and Draco was trying to keep the flailing boy in his arms.

Ron had to laugh when he saw Harry notice that Sev was throwing a fit, but made no move to help his husband. The red-head distinctly remembered Harry saying something like…

- _"The first time I met Draco, he reminded me instantly of Dudley. Now, he has a Dudley of his own, and I have a hard time helping him when Sev blows up…"_ —

Dudley and Ron had had very few opportunities to meet, but from what he took from what Harry told him over the younger years was true (which he didn't doubt), Ron could only assume that Draco and Dudley would have been best friends had the Durselys been born wizards.

However, let truth be told that the hefty blonde Muggle had been the person to introduce Harry and Ron to marijuana, and that had started an entirely different set of adventures… (*cough* Niger *cough*)

Anyway, it was aforementioned that Severus Sirius Malfoy-Potter kept his special tantrums for Daddy Draco, and this day it would be no different.

By the time Draco had taken ten steps away from the petting pen, Severus stiffened- his legs straight out, his fists balled- and shrieked, the explosion of anger lashing out and turning his father's platinum plait bright Weasley orange. When Draco noticed, some fifteen paces in, he began to shriek nearly as loud as his three-year-old just had, causing Sev to stop his tantrum so as to give an almost evil sounding giggle that carried over the crowd as piercingly as his screams as he watched his dad freak out.

Somehow, this didn't stop the food fight at all! The guests were still having it out; almost everyone was laughing and had smiles on their faces. All, that is, except one…

Ron, who was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of all that was transpiring, turned about and lost all good feelings, and was hit with a hard-settling, cold dread. A food covered Pansy, who had stood not far away, was glaring at Ron so deeply he knew he'd never forget the look.

"I can't believe you!" Pansy shrieked at him, closing the gap between them with quick steps, standing nearly toe to toe to glare up at him with Merlin forsaken crème brule on her cheek. "I- you- I-"she sputtered. Her face was pink in her anger, and he could see that her chest was turning red and heaving, "-I spentall _week_ on this party! I prepped and planned for nearly two! I woke up at _four_ this morning to be sure that everything would be ready, and you- _throw it at Greg_?!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Greg asked, blinking at her in confusion. Apparently, though Ron wouldn't have noticed because he was staring down at the shrieking witch, the members of the party had slowly stopped the food fight to look at the two of them with widened eyes. Except for Charlie, who was still quite busy.

Either way, it was hard to ignore a shrieking Pansy Parkinson, even if you wanted to. The woman in question either didn't notice they'd become the latest attraction (that, or she didn't care), because she continued to shriek in that high-pitched tone that made Ron's teeth hurt; the man's anger beginning to boil at her tone.

"I thought you respected what I do! I- _told_ you how important this is to me, and you know how important it was for you to invite me today! Now I can tell it must have been a joke!" Ron, finally grasping the fact that he could form words, began to sputter incoherently, while raising his hands ever so slightly in an attempt to defend himself; but Pansy wasn't having it, for she continued thus,

"I'm sure you think I deserve to be the arse end of your jokes! You've been the arse end of plenty of my own! I must be bloody mad to think that you- that you might-"she stopped, and Ron took a step back as she took a threatening step towards him, jabbing her finger into his chest as she continued, "You're a complete _arse_ , Ronald Weasley! It's unfortunate that I signed a piece of paper that bound me to you legally. It's no longer a surprise to me that no woman has done so before!"

She glared at him for just a second, as if she was going to say something else, before turning to leave. Ron could only stare at her, because he was at a complete loss… She growled loudly in frustration as she stormed through the crowd of gaping onlookers; all of whom had started whispering excitedly to themselves.

Ginny and Hermione both had a hand over their mouths, and the red-head's cheeks were full of air and her face was purple, and she was doing the weird motions of one trying to swallow their laughter.

Ron gaped after Pansy, and he tried to keep himself from seething and glowing red- in both anger and embarrassment- and he wouldn't know if it was by the grace of Merlin that Seamus stepped in and stopped him from following the angry woman, or if _all_ of this was just one huge bloody joke; but the Irishman said with concern on his face,

"Gosh, mate. It's a good thing you didn't say anything. You shoulda kept yourself from throwing food at me if you knew how much this meant to her, ya' prick."

Ginny finally let her fit of loud, obnoxious laughter go, and it was then that Ron let go a little himself; his magic tornado'd the food from nearby, and it covered half of the guests, and some of the hosts, in food, before he dissaparated.

 **A/N:** I have quite a few thanks to throw out for this chapter. storygirl1015 gave me the food fight idea. And, of COURSE, I was BOTWP for giving me the garden gnome idea, as well as game prizes.

 **(Purple Haze)**

 **Purple haze, all in my brain  
Lately things they don't seem the same  
Actin' funny, but I don't know why  
Excuse me while I kiss the sky**

 **Purple haze, all around  
Don't know if I'm comin' up or down  
Am I happy or in misery?  
Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Woo! I have another chapter for you all. :) Please enjoy. I had fun with this one, even if it took me a while to get there.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or JH.

 **Part 8- Manic Depression**

Over a week passed, and the August heat was already beginning to feel heavy.

The construction on England's Red House had begun on Thursday. Apparently, the Ministry official dealing with the paperwork had finished it over the weekend; the man being a huge fan of Santo's restaurant in Amalfi.

Ron slipping the notary a handful of galleons had helped as well… The red-head was ready to get Red House up and running, and he was more than happy to expedite it at any expense. He could finally enjoy that luxury in life; he refused to feel guilty about doing so.

Anyway, Ron hadn't so much as heard a whisper of Pansy, not even when he and Santo had met up at the construction site for the Italian man to give him a long list of menu items, and the contact information for his farmer's son, Fiore, who would be running Ron's farm. The day the two men met up had been the first day of construction, and Ron had been more than prepared to face Pansy that day and apologize to her, but she had not shown up. And, not only had he not asked about her, but Santo had said nothing of her either.

He absently wondered if Pansy had told Santo about her premature departure from Vivica's party.

At Harry and Neville's birthday party, Ron had tried to hide the fact that he was still pissed at himself for what had happened at the Manor, but it had been in vain. The redhead had been upset enough- by his sixth drink- that Harry had noticed while they'd been surrounded by Neville, Draco, Dean, Seamus, George, Bill, Ginny (who was "one of the blokes"), and, surprisingly enough, Greg.

The group had gone to the Netherlands for a Friday night of booze, drugs, loud music, and games, and a Saturday in Aberdeen playing golf; something Harry and Seamus had introduced to the birthday crew years back. Neville had grown partial to it, enjoying the calm, no impact sport. And the fact that you kept your feet on the ground and that there weren't any, usually, rogue balls flying at your head from nowhere. And when there were, someone yelled, "Fore!", unlike Quidditch.

They had Quidditch six years ago, during their first "Joint Birthday Bash", but Neville had been quick to call the match after he nearly fell off while being some ten meters from the ground.

Greg, seeing as he was a pureblood, had never played golf before, and found that he liked the Muggle sport. Ron figured, what with Greg's affinity for hitting things with other things, he was a born natural, and that had been the reason behind his victory on their second round of 9-hole.

Anyway, Harry had noticed Ron's foul mood some time _well_ into the festivities that Friday night, and had pulled him out the glass doors, into the side yard, while the others had been yelling loudly over who got to drink the last of the good whiskey…

 _-"Mate. What's wrong? Did you do too much of something?" Harry asked, his eyes searching and his voice concerned. The dark-haired man kind of…_ swayed _side to side, but he remained standing somehow as he looked at Ron._

" _Nah, mate," Ron replied, waving his hand sloppily, and did a sway himself, from too much booze, "I just have a lot on my mind."_

" _I know you've been busy, and you're up to your ears in restaurant shite. But thanks for making it up here with us, mate. I love you," Harry said, and they brought it in for a hug, and Ron returned the sentiment. When they pulled away, Harry asked, "Have- have you talked to Pans since the party?"_

 _Ron sighed, because he really didn't want to hear her name while he was fucked up. It made fighting the need to find that witch and fuck her until she couldn't stand nearly impossible. He also didn't like the fact that Harry could tell that it was Pansy who'd been on his mind._

 _The red-head shook his head this time, and replied, "No. I don't really know how to go about talking to her about that. I feel like a git."_

" _You_ are _a git, even if Seamus the King of Gits instigated it all. But you should still apologize to her about your part in it."_

" _I will..." Ron said honestly, with a sigh of defeat. "She was pretty pissed."_

" _Mate. She was_ livid _pissed. I almost asked you if you needed a cooling charm for that burn. Ouch."_

" _Shut up," Ron said in annoyance as he blocked the spiteful last words Pansy had thrown at him before she'd gone._

"You _shut up," Harry answered with an elongated "sh", like he decided he was going to start talking Parseltongue all of a sudden. All Ron understood in that language was "Open", and_ that _wasn't fucking happening._

"Give-me-the-fucking-whiskey _-_ Seamus! _" Ron heard his sister shriek from inside, giving the two men talking in the darkness of the yard a start._

" _Never! You pink turtle licker!" They heard Seamus yell back with a cackle._

 _Ron and Harry leaned over to look into the living room in just enough time to watch Seamus jump from an armchair to the loveseat, and on his second bounce they watched Ginny barrel into Seamus- the man in mid-air- and took the two over the back of the seat with a loud war cry; the bottle somehow staying straight upright while the Irishman tumbled._

 _The two outside only had a second to watch both Neville and Draco fall off of the couch laughing, before succumbing to fit of laughter themselves.—_

Later that evening, once Ginny, Greg, and Neville had stumbled, separately, upstairs to bed, and Seamus and Dean had been tucked into their love nest on the floor, Draco, Harry and Ron had gone to sit out on lawn in the back yard. Harry "Sodding" Malfoy-Potter had let it slip to his husband at some point in the evening that Ron had started fancying Pansy, and Draco had much to say regarding the subject…

 _-"I cannot fucking believe that! I'm serious! What the fuck? I can't- wow!" A large burst of laughter left Draco's grinning from ear to ear face, and he threw his head back and slapped the ground._

 _At the first bash, Draco- being as he got belligerent, nasty, unruly, and angry when he drank- had been banned from booze at the very party he'd suggested. At the second bash, he'd been set at the coffee table with a bag of weed, a stack of papers, and one job; which he'd done without a fuss._

 _He was a pretty chill stoner…_

" _Merlin's sack!" Blondie continued to rave. "I thought I'd seen some shite… But this-_ this _is some shite! Can you believe it, love?" Harry shrugged, a stupid grin on his own face. Ron wasn't too pleased at Draco's rant. "I mean, I know the two of you are looney, but that is just bloody bonkers! Harry! Does Pumpkin know?" Harry nodded. "Of course she does! She knows everything… Wow…" Draco calmed, and leaned back on his palms, looking out over the yard._

" _Yeah, this night- I won't forget this," Draco said with a smile, lightly shaking his outstretched feet where he'd crossed his legs at his ankles. "_ Greg _showed up, finally, after all of these years! He's going golfing with us, and he tried that Atari of yours," he nodded at Ron. "Seamus gave Dean a kiss when he beat your score at Pacman, which he probably won't remember because Neville may have botched that concussion healing charm. Your sister is_ violent _, man! I think we need to ban her from booze next year… We really should owl Luna…" They looked around at one another and shrugged._

" _Harry and I played seven minutes in heaven-" Draco continued, his earlier concern for the Irishman now gone, "- and I'm pretty sure Bill and George ate too many mushrooms and are still on_ _a_ _walk about the neighborhood. And,_ now _, Ronald Weasley_ loves _Pansy Parkinson?! Really!?"_

" _I don't love her!" Ron answered rather loudly, with righteous conviction and furious anger. He didn't realize how guilty he sounded in doing so._ (He'd been pretty drunk, and it had taken him until hole 6 in their first round of golf for him to remember the conversation even happened. Draco had looked at him strangely at breakfast, and he'd been glad when his memory kicked in and he didn't have to ask if Harry taught Draco Parseltongue.)

" _Fucking liar. I know a fucking liar when I see one, Ron."_

" _Go eat more dicks, Blondie."_

" _Yours?"_

" _Gods…" This was Harry, with a groan and a chuckle._

" _Shut up."_

" _No. You shut up."_

" _No. You."_

" _You!"_

" _No!_ You _!"_

" _Shut up!" This was Harry again, in a harsh, rather loud, whisper. "If George and Bill haven't woken the neighborhood, you two prats sure as fuck have."_

" _Harry. You know the wards set a Silencing Charm when five or more people are in the house."_

" _Thank you, Draco." Ron said, giving his dark-haired friend a look._

" _You're welcome," the blonde replied. "Now… back to business."_

 _Draco cleared his throat, threw his head back, and continued laughing._ -

Ron hadn't taken Harry's advice immediately, but first thing Monday morning after the party weekend, he had managed to write this:

Pansy,

I don't expect you to say yes, but I'd like to apologize to you in person for what I started at Vivica's party. I was a complete arsehole, just like you said.

-Ron

After he sent it off Stubs returned a while later without an immediate reply, so he spent the rest of his Monday trying to entertain himself with the parchment Santo had given him that listed all possible seasonal menu items. It had been easy enough to decide on the menus, even with his heart beating with anticipation at the arrival of Pansy's owl, and it had only taken him an hour or two to fully decide. Afterward, he had then had been reduced to playing Galaxia for five hours while drinking whiskey on the rocks, sitting in a banana chair.

But, at the end of _that_ five hour debacle, a tapping came at the living room window, and Ron recognized Pansy's Tawny owl instantly. He let it in, gave it a treat, and noted its departure as he opened the envelope with Pansy's reply:

Arsehole,

Meet me at a pub named Axis in Amalfi tomorrow night. 8 p.m.

-Pansy

After a few more hours of drinking and a Pong battle that he won against himself, he ended up having to wank before going to sleep, and upon waking the next morning, he had to do so again, and by the time 7:30 p.m. came around Ron found himself talking to his reflection in the bathroom mirror; giving himself another pep-talk before he floo'ed to meet the witch he fancied.

"Ok, Ron…" he said to his reflection, one hand in his pocket, and the other running through his shaggy hair. "You can do this without doing or saying something stupid. You're going to meet up with her, have a drink… maybe two… and then you're gonna go home, wank, and all of this will be done without any funny business.

"She's your employee, and you," he pointed to his reflection in the mirror, "are her boss. It is unprofessional of you take this any further. It's just a drink, it's not a date. You-" he pointed again, "-are a broken record…You're going to fuck this up." The man leaned on the edge of the sink, bowed his head, and sighed… But he continued,

"You're going to go there, buy the lady a drink, apologize to her, and leave. Got it? Ok, Weasley," he, stood upright, put his hand through his hair once more, and straightened out his suit jacket. He decided to go with Business Wizard attire, because this was for the sake of his business, damn it! "It's go time."

By the time he had his drink in hand, it was five to eight, and he didn't see Pansy yet. Yeah, he saw plenty of beautiful women inside the pub named "The Axis", but none of them were _her_.

He didn't know when he started feeling so anxious about the woman, but his nerves were alight with jitters. He wanted so badly to see her, to explain himself and beg her forgiveness, but he knew he had to play it cool. He didn't want to run her off any more than he had, and he knew that their professional, or even otherwise, future depended on the way he acted tonight.

At ten after eight, he began to worry, and, when twenty after rolled by, he deduced that she'd stood him up as payback for being a total prick. He could accept that… He should have had the sense not to retaliate at Seamus, but he couldn't help it. The bastard was so irritating at times.

He thought on his mistake as he emptied his second drink and left his money on the bar, standing and turning from the expensive wooden bar top only to bump into Pansy.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Ron exclaimed as he reached out to grab her by the upper arms as she teetered backwards at his movement.

She had either been planning on scaring him, or she had just been ready to greet him, because he hadn't realized she'd arrived. Her hands moved out to grab onto his arms, and held on as he righted her, looking down at her, taking in the fact that her face was flush and her eyes were glazed over as if she'd already had a couple of drink herself. She stared back up at him with an amused look, and he was exceedingly aware of the fact that they were so close, and that they still held each other by the arms.

However, neither let go as she looked up to him to say,

"It's ok. I was literally about to say something when you turned. Were-"she looked at his money on the bar, then to his empty glass, and then up to him, "- were you leaving?"

"I didn't think you were going to make it," he replied, feeling a little ashamed that he'd considered leaving now that she was there… Now that he had her so close…

"I named the date, Ron," she said, "of course I was going to make it. I was just held up at Daph's, and my shower- uh…"

As she stopped speaking, her eyes looked down at where the two still held on to each other's arms, and it was then that Ron watched Pansy fully register the fact that they were still holding onto each other. For just a second neither moved, that is until their eyes met once more and he decided to back away from her with the quickness, sitting back onto his barstool.

She took a step back as well, and she gave a ghost of a smile as she brushed her hands over her dress. It wasn't red this time, but black looked just as good on her. He'd noticed so before when he'd first seen her at Red House, but the witch in a black dress was something else entirely.

Had she worn it to give him a stiffy, or was she completely unaware of the fact that her dress was barely doing its _one job_ of keeping her covered?

"Do you- uh…"Ron began, and then cleared his throat unnecessarily as he tried like hell not to think of what it felt like to touch her, "Do you want a drink?"

"Yes," she said, setting her purse down on the bar before she sat down on her stool.

"What are you drinking?" He asked, keeping his eyes on her face instead of… the rest of her. But her face was giving him just as many issues, if not more than usual at the moment. He was happy to see her, and happy that she hadn't actually stood him up.

"I've been drinking brandy and water on the rocks," she answered. "I guess I should keep going with that." He lifted a brow at her, but said nothing as he ordered her brandy, and his own whiskey, before he turned to her and said as calmly as he could,

"I'm so sorry for starting that food fight at Vivica's party. I didn't _actually_ mean to start something like that, but I regretted it _instantly_ once I realized it was an insensitive thing to do." Ron had been an insensitive shite almost all of his life… He knew it, but he was learning; part of that was learning to admit it. He had done so with Hermione, but that had been all too late…

She nodded at him, and gave him a small smile before saying,

"I know you regretted it… And I shouldn't have reacted the way that I did, especially at Viv's birthday. I felt so bad I wrote her an owl apologizing. She wrote me back and said that she thought it had been funny, so I guess I'm in the clear with her." Ron huffed a little at the thought of Vivica laughing at his expense, but he listened as she finished, "I'm sorry I yelled at you and called you an arsehole in front of your family."

"It's fine. They know," Ron answered with a shrug. (You know the Weasleys know Ron's a crazy arsehole. I mean, what is family for?) "And they know as well as I that I deserved it."

"Yeah," she gave a small laugh, and then gave the bartender a nod and "thank you" for giving them their drinks before she turned to Ron and said, "You really did."

They both took a sip from their drinks, and sat in "silence" a moment as the chatter and music continued on around them. The Axis was a pretty small pub, and it was pretty empty for this Tuesday night, and that suited Ron because of the nature of their visit. They weren't out to get wasted, dance, and then go home to the Jacuzzi tub in his back yard and smoke jays and shag.

Nope. That wasn't the plan. He already had his Vincent Vega moment in the mirror and part of him, after two drinks, was already thinking he may need to rethink his strategy. Talking to one's self only seldom worked…

"So- how was Harry and Neville's birthday party? Hermione always tells me that Harry and Draco always come back chortling about some excursion or another," She said, trying to break the silence. They both took a drink, and Ron said,

"It was good. Greg went, and we showed him how to play golf."

"Did he like it?" She asked, apparently familiar with the sport. Ron nodded, and said with a smile,

"Yeah. He won the second round, actually. Do you play golf?" He asked. She shook her head.

"No. My brother plays it. As well as disc golf, but I've never joined him," she answered.

"Disc golf?" Ron blinked at her.

"Yeah… It has standard golf rules, but you use discs and chain baskets in place of balls and holes in the ground. I never joined him in that either."

"And your brother, he still lives in the States?"

"Yeah. He found his niche there, I guess…"

"And you didn't?" Ron asked.

At Viv's birthday, Ron had asked her about her adventures… She said that she would tell him about it while they picked out employees, but that hadn't happened due to their row. And, as if she had had the same thought as Ron, Pansy switched the subject by saying,

"What did you get Viv for her birthday?"

"I got her a twelve string guitar so that she can play her classical music," he said, and she smiled, and then that smile turned into a laugh. Ron didn't understand what was so funny, that is until she said,

"Draco is going to kill you. Apparently, Viv practiced every day for hours on her piano. So much that Draco had to silence the music room. And, she pulled Harry into the room every five minutes to listen to her progress."

"At least I know I got her something that will give those three hell. That is until I've figured out a way to create a ward that keeps the Ministry from tracking her underage magic. I plan to have it done by the time she's eleven," Ron said, and Pansy's jaw slackened a little.

"You haven't changed a bit," the witch said with a smile. "You're still planning on breaking the rules, and you can't get over a grudge. I suspect that you are still sore at me for the Harry situation." Ron rolled his eyes at her, but smiled.

"No. I've gotten over that," Ron said honestly. It was strange, you know? The feelings he once had were replaced by something else completely, and he could no longer feel mad at her.

"Good," Pansy replied, and then took a sip of her drink. "At least I know your assault on Greg wasn't long-awaited pay back… If you can still be angry at your two best friends after all of this time, I could only guess that you still needed your revenge."

"My assault on Greg was actually an assault on Seamus. He was-" Ron paused before he said too much of the truth, "- he was being a cheeky shite and threw- crème brule on me, and I didn't even think before throwing it back at him." Pansy chortled into her drink for a second, before saying,

"Finnigan is an arsehole. Draco seems to like him, but he was giving me the most ludicrous bloody leers at the party! I thought about jinxing his eyes shut."

"Well you shouldn't have worn that dress, then." Ron replied, _sotto voce,_ around his glass. He considered not saying it, but someone had to tell her!

"This dress is worse than that one-" Ron didn't dare look at her dress, "-and you've managed to control yourself. At least this time," She said with a cheeky grin.

She was poking fun at him, but that was pretty common for her. His mind flashed him the torturous images of her in her underwear in her kitchen, and he decided he should change the subject before his mind lingered too long, and he apparated them to his house so he could get the tight fitting, black dress off of her, and onto the floor of his room.

For a moment, he reminded himself of the plan he made before he left the house. He was supposed to buy her a drink, apologize, and then go home and wank. He'd done two of those things, and he should be doing the third… but he didn't feel like leaving just yet.

"At Viv's party you said you'd tell me about your time abroad. What did you do in the Americas?" Ron asked, stabbing in the dark for the hope that she'd give in and tell him so that he'd have an excuse to stay around her, and talk about something other than the fact that Seamus and Ron were lechers, and that Ron the Lecher wanted to take his employee home.

Not that staying around and drinking with her was any more of a bright idea.

Pansy shrugged, sighed, and gave a nod/shake of her head, said, "Fine. If you want to know, I'll tell you. But I need another drink first."

They ordered another round, and when the bartender had set the glasses down, she grabbed hers to take a sip and began,

"I'm sure you'll find it easy to believe, now that you've met them, but I didn't care about my parents and their perspective by the time I left. All I knew was that our side had lost the war, and that there was no coming back from it completely, even if they wanted to pretend that it would all go back as it was after a while. Obviously, that didn't happen, and they have to deal with the fact that the way we were raised is dead and gone forever.

"Well, I stayed around England for a few years afterward and looked for a "fitting" pureblood wizard to make those two loons happy. I thought it would make _me_ happy, but it didn't, because then, I tried to pretend that I still stood behind what my parents believe," she shrugged, took a drink from her glass. "Blaise and I tried our hand at a betrothal contract for a few years, playing the "we might get married" game. What I took most from that time was all of the different restaurants we dined in, and the food that was served at all of these places.

"I told Blaise once that I liked the idea of cooking, and he told me that there wouldn't be any need for me to ever cook, and that it would be below me to do so because he and I- once we were married- would have house elves do it. Obviously, I don't care about house elves. They like it, so let them be. I like cooking, so I told him to let me be. We broke it off, mutually, actually, and he decided to go to University to study Law, and I decided that I wanted to see the world and its food."

"It's no wonder that you and Hermione get along," Ron said, took a drink. "I once told her that I found the fact that she thought too much, read too much, knew too much, unnecessary."

Pansy gasped, put her hand to her mouth, let her eyes widen, and said through her fingers,

"Shut up! You did not!"

He didn't often like to mention the Hermione thing… nor did he like talking about her "adventures abroad"; because even though it had been years since all of that happened, every now and again it would get to him. His part in pushing Hermione away- after Fred's passing, after witnessing death after death, horror after horror- ate at Ron for a very long time. So much so, it had taken him years to admit it once she came back from being in hiding, and after she had moved on with Harry instead of him.

He'd already had an inferiority complex when it came to Harry, and he had blamed The Man Who Lived for all of his strife. But Ron was oft the dumb ass, and when he'd realized he'd been a total cunt to the people who loved him- even with the fact that he was an insensitive, angry, cunty arsehole- he had gone to see Harry and Hermione and apologized face to face. It was just that… he had loved Hermione _so_ deeply, that she had left him with an empty hole that still hadn't closed entirely. He loved her still, in his own way...

Sure, Pansy's decision to leave had been different, but it was all close enough to bring all of this to the surface for him.

"I did. So, that's probably _two_ things you both bonded over," Ron replied. Pansy gave him a half smile, and shrugged, saying,

"She and I did find common ground where you were concerned, yes. The fact that we've both traveled a bit definitely helped us spark a friendship. However, in all of the traveling she did, she says she had only been to the America's for business, though she won't tell me _what_ business," Ron gulped and looked down, hoping his expression wasn't too telling. It was here that she continued on with her story,

"I chose America because so many of the restaurants I spoke of had added Westernized food to their menus, and so I figured there must have been something to see there. So, I first chose the California beaches, choosing La Jolla as my first destination. I spent six months serving at a Wizarding restaurant there. Ever heard of Voodoo?" Ron shook his head. "I was there six months before I asked my boss if I could learn how to cook, and all he said was no. So, after a couple of months of saving- I cut myself off from my parents, taking the money my father gave me upon graduating, which I'd managed to save little of- I left for Las Vegas. I had heard a lot of talk about it, and the world cuisine that you could find there.

"I started working as a dishwasher at a Wizarding restaurant there, much like I did at Santo's. Have you heard of "The Shy"?" Ron shook his head no. She shrugged. "Anyway, there's a Wizarding restaurant hidden there- dubbed "The Shy"- which was perfect because the Cheyanne Saloon that it's hidden in always had a lot of really loud metal or punk music playing, and the people outside were always too drunk to notice us shy around the back to the entrance. You should go sometime. If not for The Shy, then for the nightlife." Ron considered the logistics of that trip as she continued,

"Anyway. It was there that I met Miguel, one of the chefs, and he and I were instantly attracted to each other, and it didn't take more than a month for him to start teaching me the ropes of cooking as a professional wizarding Chef.

"As you will soon learn, I have no official schooling when it comes to cooking. I have no certificates of completion from schools in France, or New York, or Japan, but an apprenticeship is just as good, if not better than school, in our industry. The apprentice program Santo has is one of the best, and most definitely the longest one I've ever heard of, but I'm glad I've made it through, and that he sees me as a capable, well rounded chef."

"Well you worked hard," Ron acknowledged, taking the last sip of his drink. He ordered another. "And you stepped up to the pitch when Santo needed you, so I'm not surprised he took you on."

She made this odd, strangled, high-pitched, groan… thing, and she put her elbow up on the bar and rested her forehead on her palm.

"Ok!" She began, suddenly sitting up and turning to him, "I had a drink or two before I left my house, and I think that's the reason that I have to say…" She paused, took a deep breath, finished her drink and then set the glass on the bar before she opened her mouth and said, "I obliviated Raul, Santo's last apprentice, and made him believe that he quit and that Santo was going to send him his last check, and then sent him home before I took his place."

Ron nearly choked on his drink as he stared at her, and she continued,

"It's the most shite thing I've ever done, but it was the only way I could see me being taken on by Santo. Raul still had years before he was finished, and I wanted that position to be mine. I haven't backed down since, though, so it wasn't in vain. Oh Gods!" She put her face into her hands. "Why did I tell you that?" She seemed to have asked herself this, and Ron had to smile at her.

All Ron could think about was Rita Skeeter's life sentence in a terrarium. He thought about telling Pansy about this, but he decided that it was Hermione's job to tell her. Besides, all Ron had done was let Hermione through Rita's wards. Hermione had done the rest…

But, _that_ had pretty much been for personal gain. Personal satisfaction, anyway, and it was tempting for Ron to tell her. He felt bad he couldn't share this with her, to ease her uncertainty, especially once she stammered,

"Are- fuck! Are you going to turn me in? I mean, I know you're not an Auror anymore, but that doesn't mean you can't find Neville to clap me in irons and haul me off to Azkaban."

Ron, who'd been quiet after her confession, laughed at Pansy and shook his head, saying,

"Hell no. If anyone is putting you in irons it's going to be me. And I wouldn't be taking you to Azkaban."

Yup… Ron probably should have just spilled the beans on Rita, because his fourth drink had officially caused Ron to lose his filter, and once the words slipped out he felt himself grow hot under the collar, and it was _his_ turn to rest his elbow on the bar and set his face on his palm.

Before, when his lewd words didn't mean anything, Ron wouldn't have cared what he said, but now that his words were one-hundred percent truth it was God awful embarrassing.

"It's fine!" Pansy cut through his moment with a laugh and a pat on the back, which alarmed him, causing him to look back at her. She'd touched him voluntarily. "Obviously, I say things I probably shouldn't all of the time. That's why we're even here, isn't it? Anyway, I would-" she stopped, and bit her lip, and looked away as her face became somewhat red.

When she decided to look back at him, she did so in silence, and it was in that silence that Ron wondered (hoped, really…) if she was going to say she wanted him to put her in irons and take her somewhere. But he didn't push it, and she didn't elaborate. But now that Pansy's secret was out, it seemed that the both of them could push the many other facets of their lives; elaborated on quite a bit more as they spent time drinking at Axis:

… "My brother Percy found his niche with another crowd at one point, too… But he was on the wrong path, which he discovered. I think it's wicked that our brothers are both architects. My Percy can build walls, too." …

… "I really don't know when it became fashionable for Slytherins to marry Hufflepuffs… Susan is a genius; her line has made her skin absolutely _flawless_ , but you take it however you want when I say she's plain! I just thought Blaise would pick someone like his mother, you know? All- permanent make-up, gaudy jewelry and high-heeled shoes…"

… "- and I just can't get over the two of them snogging… I really am the worst friend ever. I should just be happy for them, you know? Instead, I fuck shite up - and I've always had to apologize for doing stupid shite and saying stupid shite, and for- being a total _cunt_."…

… "I still can't believe you said that to Hermione. It's no wonder she was pissed!... Don't look at me like that. We _both_ know that we _both_ say stupid shite. That's why we're here, remember?"…

… "My siblings and friends had plenty of kids. I know you babysit the boys sometimes, but do you remember Draco's birthday two years ago? When you all went to Greece?... Yeah, well, who do you think watched the Malter kids, the Longbottom kids, Fred's, Percy's, Dean's, and Marceline's son Mateo? Me, my mum, Teddy, and Victoire.

"The seven of us kids and dad pitched in and we built mum a new house, and we needed every room that weekend. It was a fucking circus! I think I fixed every door, every window, and half of those windows were just from Severus! Jane had a come apart both nights her parents were gone, and Victoire and Dominique got in more fights than I could count… I know you're laughing, but I think I lost hair from that weekend."…

… "Do you think I'd _want_ to have kids?! With tits like this? No. No, sir. No way. _These_ are staying where they are." …

… "Let's make a deal, right here and now, to keep our mums away from each other at the grand opening." …

… "Eggs are the best thing in the world! Other than potatoes… You can just _do_ so many things with either of them, you know? It's bizarre, really. I think about it all of the time… Did you decide on a menu yet?!" …

… "… Crème brule…" …

… "When everything was said and done with the trials, Draco decided to reject the betrothal contract from my father, so dad sent one to Blaise…"…

... "It all happened when I decided to accept the fact that Hermione was gone. That's when I decided I was going to have to move forward, and become proactive in deciding my future. It was then that I went to Bill's-"…

… "Hell yes, I understand that! I had to learn molecular structure in New York, when Santo first sent me to live and learn with Muggles. It's insane that they don't teach us that in Wizarding school. Not even at university! But that worked out well for you, because your mad genius figured out a way to get ahead with all of that." …

… "If you think about it, the glass is half full all either way… You just have to tilt your head to the side and look at it a little differently…" …

"I'm fucking hungry!" Pansy said rather loudly after she set the glass of her fifth drink onto the bar. "Are you hungry?"

Ron blinked at her through the strong buzz he was rolling on, and he shook his head before saying,

"Yes. I'm almost always hungry."

"Me too," she replied with a grin. Many a thing went through Ron's now inebriated brain, and it took him a moment to decide between saying, "I have food at my house", and "You should feed me. Let's go to your house." At her mentioning food, Ron's first (followed very closely by Pansy) weakness, his stomach growled. He also decided he was at least buzzed, and when he looked down at her cleavage for the hundredth time, and felt his fingers twitch in an effort to reach out and touch her, that he finally said,

"We should call it a night then," wherein he finished his sentence in his mind, '-before I drink anymore and invite you home.' And, holy shit, did he want that! He had to force the words to invite her home away from the tip of his tongue, and force himself to swallow them as he watched her reach for her purse and attempt to open it. Without thinking, he put his hand onto hers, and said,

"I've got the drinks."

She looked to their hands, and then over to him, and again, neither moved to pull away immediately as they stared at one another in a silence that held all too much. But neither said the obvious things that were on their minds, but she did finally manage to answer,

"You'd better."

He nodded at her with a half-smile, watched her bite her lip and look away from, and he removed his hand so that he could pay the barkeep, and escorted her- with a hand at the small of her back- to the floo room. As they reached the fireplace, they turned to one another, and yet another moment ensued where they looked at one another in uncertainty; with words just on the tips of their tongues and their gazes saying nothing more than, "Take me home."

It was Pansy who broke the awkward silence, by reaching into her purse, which must have been extended in some way, and she pulling out a file that was quite full of parchment, saying,

"Here are the resumes-"she stumbled, hiccupped, giggled, and then smiled at him, "- that I was going to give you sooner than now." Ron reached out and took them from her, and he looked at the file for a moment, and everything about work came back to him. Everything about his responsibility, his integrity, the fact that he was already shite deep enough… the fact that he had a plan came back to Ron, and he looked back to the witch he was standing so very close to, and said,

"Thank you. I'll look these over, and perhaps we can get together later in the week." With these words, Ron took a step away from Pansy, and he watched her register the fact that whatever either hoped was going to happen, wasn't going to happen.

Ron had made many mistakes in his life when it came to women, and the farther into the situation he got, the farther and farther away he became. This situation didn't need to go any farther. This situation needed to stay where it was. Platonic.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat and looked to the floo, and straightened herself as best she could with her inebriation. For a moment, Ron wondered if she would be able to speak her address clearly enough. "How does Thursday sound? At Italy's Red House? The sooner we decide on the staff the better. I have to get them trained before the grand opening."

"That sounds good to me," he responded with a nod. "What time?"

"Ten a.m." She answered. He nodded again, and forced a smile to say,

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight. Thank you for drinks, and for apologizing. I didn't think you had it in you." She grinned up at him cheekily, and the urge to close the gap between them and kiss her was stronger then than it had been all night. There had been so many moments, so many opportunities, but this one was the hardest.

But he managed to control himself, and he gave her one last smile and a nod before he dissaparated.

 **A/N:** Ha! Not yet, homies. Soon though…

 **A/N:** Pulp Fiction is my favorite movie of all time. Sorry.

 **(Manic Depression)**

 **Woman so willing the sweet cause in vain  
You make love  
You break love  
It's a all the same, when it's  
When it's over**

 **Music sweet music**  
 **I wish I could caress caress caress**  
 **Manic depression is a frustrating mess**  
 **Oh!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Woo! An update! Cray, I know.

 **Disclaimer: I do not own this.**

 **Part 9- The Wind Cries Mary**

Ron, Santo, and Pansy had watched as the first walls of the restaurant went up a week after the "date" at Axis. It had been a moment that Ron had felt quite proud of. He hadn't cast any of the building spells or anything himself, but he was over-whelmed with the feeling of accomplishment and excitement that he thought would never top being the world's number one protector of the people. Minus Rita… That witch didn't deserve protection.

With the help of Santo, and the farmer's son, they had gone through the plans and construction of the farm a week after the restaurant's construction began, for it was pertinent that Fiore be ready in time for fall planting. It had all required quite a bit more materials than expected, but that had not been a problem financially. The time it was taken had been the issue, and Ron and Fiore had worked around the clock for a week to have it ready.

Ron and Pansy had spent an awkward afternoon looking through the stack of resumes together, sans booze. After she had given him the folder, he'd spent days going through and deciding who he thought were their best choices; of which there were many. Ron knew it was important for him to do this particular task as quickly as possible, and made it a nightly priority to look through the papers, as many as he could, before their meeting. It was important that he do so for Red House. It was important that he do so for Pansy, and she had appreciated that he'd spent the time to give every resume his consideration.

He had appreciated that she took the time to spend time with him.

He was so fucking gone…

Really, he was, but he did what Ron did far too often (some would say best), and he let himself remain ignorant of it all.

The past few weeks of August had done nothing for the feelings he'd been able to suppress; that both he and Pansy had been trying to suppress for each other. The looks were unmistakable; the glances, the stares, the smiles… But, the fact of the matter was, was that the both of them were keeping work at the forefronts of their minds.

Ron knew that he'd been wearing his heart on his sleeve when he and Pansy had been at Axis; he knew he'd been obvious in his change of mood once she'd passed him the folder of resumes… Since then, anything and everything was about business. There were no flirtatious innuendos, there were no touches, there were no more meetings outside of work, but neither could be more obvious about the fact that there were things that were still left unsaid between them. Still, neither acted on anything, and it was another telling sign all on its own. Pansy's work meant a lot to her, and Ron's work had always meant a lot to him, even if the type just recently changed. He'd put years of study, research, and development, and tested theory after theory on his wards because he'd been dedicated in making a difference to their world. Perhaps one could say Ron _had_ gotten married; he'd married his job and they had a child named "The Weasley Warding Method" (WWM).

Pansy had married her job as well, and he knew that game. He knew the moves, and any move made in advance towards Pansy was sure to end in a draw. There could be no winning where all of _that_ was concerned, because work would come first. They'd come too far to fuck it all up now.

But, even with all of this taken into consideration, nothing changed Ron's feelings about her, he just knew that he had to let them die off in time, like most feelings did. The pain of Fred's passing had faded, the pain of Hermione's "passing", and her reappearance, had faded... The feelings he had for Pansy, though they were quite different from the other situations, would fade as well, and they would be able to move on in peace.

-()-()-()-()-()-

It was the last day of August that Ron awoke early morning to prepare for the Grand Opening that night, and he more excited, and more anxious, than he had been in a long time! It seemed a pretty common occurrence, but today took the cake. The chocolate cake!

He spent his entire morning at the restaurant, running over paperwork in his new office. He decided he loved it. Pansy came to great him an hour or so after his arrival, stating that she was going to start getting ready, even if they weren't going to be opening for lunch service that day; instead waiting for dinner service. Their interaction was short, and there wasn't any other until "Family Dinner", after Ron had seen that all tasks were being managed.

Santo and Luka closed down the Red House in Italy for the day, and arrived in time to attend England's first family dinner, which turned into a family luncheon due to timing. Santo had instated the rule in the contract Ron had signed; "All members of the staff must meet at four thirty p.m. for family dinner, where the Chef will cook a meal of his or her choosing, which all will sit down to eat together." Ron found this rule rather touching, thinking of all the times he and his family, and all of their extended family, sat around an elongated table in the yard so that everyone could be close, so he had no problem with this rule at all. In fact, he kind of looked forward to it…

Ron and Pansy had sat next to one another during the meal she'd prepared for all of them; peppered venison loin and smoked sausage with baked pumpkin and cabbage. He hadn't sat so close to her for such an elongated period of time in so long, that he and his body had been definitely aware of her presence; at points their arms, elbows, or even their hands would touch, which they would ignore, and at one point they'd both turned to look at one another at the same time, only for the smiles they wore to fade lightly, and for them to turn to speak to someone else… anyone else.

Once the luncheon was finished, Ron flooed home so as to shower, and change into the new robes he'd had tailored; a dark grey ensemble with a deep red tie. He looked at his appearance in the full-length mirror in his walk-in closet, wondering if he looked good enough to please the eye of a certain witch. He should not have cared- he told himself he didn't- but he couldn't help it. Pansy was still there, in the back of his mind, and behind his every decision, all of the time…

Once he was back at Red House, he stepped from the fire to be entirely pleased by what awaited him. Everything within the restaurant was exactly as it should be; the lanterns and chandeliers had been lit in his absence; the mahogany tables, with white clothes- and matching chairs with red ribbons- had been set immaculately; the small stage was bustling where the musicians were setting up; the display cases had been filled; the vases- both large, and the small ones that were the tables' centerpieces- were full of fresh, red roses. The floor-to-ceiling windows were perfectly clear, and this allowed Ron to see the group of patrons and paparazzi that were already waiting for the doors to open.

Walking to the back of the house, Ron made it in just enough time to listen to Pansy give the nightly pre-service talk, where she explained the menu, as well as reminded the staff of how it important it was they remembered their training, etiquette, and they upheld the one major rule of the kitchen; No magic while preparing food. At the end of it, Ron made his way to his Executive Chef, who had undoubtedly spotted him when he arrived. He was the only red-head, believe it or not, but she had not even looked his way while she spoke; she had been intent on talking to her employees.

As he came to stand near her, Dolly- Pansy's assistant who would soon be her apprentice- looked up at Ron, and Pansy followed her view. The Exec gave her employer a smile and a nod, and Dolly turned to leave them alone, while Pansy said,

" _That_ is one dashing set of robes."

He smiled at her, before saying rather honestly, "I'm glad you like it."

"I do," she answered. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be… Are you?"

Pansy nodded once, and said, "I am, even if I'm nervous." She allowed herself to look vulnerable, even a little scared, and Ron gave her a reassuring smile. He found the fact that she admitted this as a positive sign; perhaps they could make it out of all of this as friends.

"Don't be," he answered. "You're going to do amazing. Your cooking is going to take England by storm… Thank you for that." She smiled up at him, and shook her head a little before mumbling,

"You're welcome," she said, and Ron swore he heard her add, "But I'm not nervous about cooking." In his moment of silence, where he decided whether or not he heard what he had, she asked, "How does it look outside? Are people arriving yet?"

"Uh-" Ron stammered, before he shook his head lightly, and said, "Yeah. I think the paparazzi are already waiting, and it looks like some patrons are as well… Did you say you were, or you _weren't_ , nervous about cooking?"

"You should get out there if the cameras have shown up!" She completely ignored his question. "I have plenty to do in here, so I'm not sure for how long I'll be able to go outside, but I'll do my best. Good luck tonight, Ron. Come find me afterwards and we'll talk numbers." She turned and walked toward the Sous, and Ron called,

"Good luck to you, Pans." The witch turned back to him, smiled, and gave him a final nod, before he left the kitchen, and walked to the front doors.

As he exited the large double doors to step onto the cobbles of Diagon Alley, an hour before they were scheduled to open, loud chatter reached him, and almost instantly the cameras began to flash, and the people came as close as they could to red ropes keeping them all at bay. Because he was so used to it, Ron heard his mum's voice distinctly as she yelled,

"Ron! Over here!" He looked to his left, where his family was standing near a reporter for Witch Weekly; his mother, father, and George waving wildly to get his attention. He grinned to them, and motioned for an Auror- a few having been hired as security for the event- to allow them through the red ropes. He walked up to them, gave his mother and father a hug, and greeted them with,

"I can't bloody believe how many people are here!"

"Language, Ron!" Molly scolded lightly. All the youngsters were staying with Andromeda and Teddy at the Manor for the night, so she only said so out of habit. "And I can surely believe it, son! I knew this would be a sensation! Oh, Merlin's goat, I can't wait to see the inside!"

Before Ron could reply, the sound of a rather loud "crack!" did not go unnoticed by anyone as the crowd turned at once to see that the Malters had arrived; Draco to Hermione's left, Harry to her right, and the three linked together by their arms walked through the crowd and towards the Weasley brood who stood waiting for them. Hermione, of course, looked amazing in a low-cut, deep red gown, and Harry and Draco had dressed rather smart for the occasion, themselves. Draco in a suit wasn't surprising at all, but Harry being in one was.

The reporters went berserk as the Malters came close to the Weasleys, shouting each member of the triad's names, which all came out in a jumbled mess that no one really understood, until all but one went quiet.

"Hermione!" a reporter from _The Daily Prophet_ called, "May we please get a picture of you, Ron, and your husbands?" The man was intelligent, knowing full well that Hermione was the one to ask nicely, _and_ that you bloody better ask her in the first place!

The shouts from the crowd and paparazzi, from then on, were considerably louder as the four moved to stand before the entryway of the restaurant, Hermione having nodded her consent. There had been an uncountable amount of times in the witch's life where she'd been before a camera, and in the past decade she had disintegrated three or four. Usually, the reporter was stalking her outside of her home, or breaking into the hospital to get a picture of whichever Malfoy-Potter child was just born. She would simply give the intruder a look, their camera would turn into a pile of ash (for which she would later pay for by sending a few galleons to the reporter, with a note that basically said "Fuck off and die") and the intruder would turn and run away. The reporter who had broken into the room after she'd had the boys had been the only one to be physically harmed by her, and no one had said a thing; not the doctors or nurses, not the Ministry, not even the photographer, who had to be wheeled from the room on a table due to the six oddly shaped bottles of potions Mrs. Malter had sent up his arsehole.

There were many pictures taken of Ron with the Malters, and a few were taken with Ginny and a newly arrived Neville and Luna; the seven together giving the crowd winning smiles as they huddled close. Then, it was time for Molly and Arthur to have their picture taken with Ron, and they were ushered up to stand on either side of their son. They stood close, grinning happily for the cameras.

"I am so proud of you, Ron," Arthur said, and used his arm around his son's shoulders to pull him into a closer hug.

"Thanks dad," Ron said with a small smile. "I couldn't have done it without the two of you."

"You did this, Ron," Molly said, "You left the Ministry, and you're doing what makes you happy. That's all we wanted you to do, and you did it all yourself." Ron wrapped his arms around his aging mum, and kissed the top of her head, before a man called from the crowd,

"Where's your Executive Chef, Ron?"

"I'll go get her!" Hermione yelled, suddenly and very loudly, before disapparating within the restaurant. A few seconds later, she was back with Pansy in tow, saying, "Here she is! But, oh my! You can't wear that for the picture!" Hermione exclaimed as she kept Pansy from walking up to stand before the entryway. Ron, who moved away from the entryway with his parents, watched while Hermione waved her wand (for the sake of the public) and changed Pansy's chef's coat and pants into a deep red dress that went high at the neck, and fit the curves of her body tightly all the way down to her calves, where it flared out into many layers of fabric. Then Hermione removed Pansy's white chef's hat, and removed the tie from the bun atop her head, before pushing the raven-haired witch to stand before the front doors.

Ron had one hell of a time keeping his mind clean as he watched Pansy smile and pose, the dress Hermione decided to put her in- though it covered almost every inch of her, including the back of her hands- still left very little to the imagination. At one point, she lifted her hand to wave at someone in the crowd, and Ron used his height to look for the recipient of the wave. He saw Santo first, then Luka, and then noticed that Cassius and Rose were standing next to the Quercia men.

When she looked back to the cameras, she did as she'd done while they were in the kitchen; she didn't look at him at all, until he took a subconscious step closer to a cameraman, his movement catching her eye. She looked to him then, and he gave her a half-smile, which she returned. The two stared at one another for an incalculable amount of time; where bulbs flashed bright and broke, people yelled, smiled, and laughed; where the crowd moved, as did the clock, but nothing mattered for just that moment; where they stood, stared, and smiled at one another like they were the only ones standing in Diagon Alley.

"Ron! Can we have a picture of you with Chef Pansy?" one of the Prophet reporters asked, drawing their attention, only for the two to look back to one another with uneasy eyes. The moment they were just having had been personal, and both were unsure, but nodded before Ron moved from his group and towards her, where she wrapped her arm around his waist. Ron had been completely unsure about touching her at first, but decided that he should act casually; as if he did not love the woman he wrapped his arm around.

"This is quite the turn out," Pansy said to him as they rested close together, smiling for the crowd and photographers.

"It's a lot bigger than I'd imagined, that's for sure," Ron said, struggling with looking back into the flashing lights; the thought of staring at Pansy a more welcoming option with every picture, so he turned to her in just enough time for her to look up at him and ask,

"Is that what all of the women say to you?"

This only made the smile on Ron's face brighten as he held back a laugh, and she seemed to be holding one back herself, though he could swear she might have chuckled. They hadn't made many jokes in the past month, but he took it lightly as he replied, "As a matter of fact, it is."

"I wouldn't be surprised," she said in a low voice as she turned back to the camera, though he still heard her. 'Is she trying to make my face red?' Ron thought to himself as he too turned back to the flashing lights.

"Will I be seeing you next week at Hermione's birthday party?" Pansy asked as the cameras continued to flash, and Santo and Luka were pushed into the frame as well; Santo next to Ron, Luka next to Pansy. The youngest Quercia man's arm snaked over Pansy's shoulder, and Ron felt as Pansy moved somehow closer to him, and her grip around his waist tightened. The Weasley man didn't even try to contain his smile as he answered her,

"Of course." He said this as if the answer were obvious, because it should have been. "Not only do we share the same friends, but we're officially co-workers, now. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other... When will we be having a birthday party for _you_?" He was curious. He'd never known the date of her birth, and he wanted any excuse to make sure she talked to him, and not Luka. Ron was already resisting the urge to swat his hand away from Pansy's shoulder. Glancing up to Luka, he noticed the other man glance at him and frown, before he put on another smile and turned back to the crowd.

"You bought me drinks on my birthday, dafty," Pansy answered easily, her smile still in place. Ron, who was not ready for this answer, let his jaw slacken a little, and his eyes widen, for he was in total shock. He'd been currently thinking of a way to physically assault his business partner's son when she said this, and he hoped the cameras didn't catch his face as he asked her,

"Wha?"

Before she could answer, the four were suddenly ushered out of the way, as the reporters moved Angelina and George to stand before the restaurant; the public needing their dose of every celebrity in attendance. Pansy moved through the crowd towards Hermione, but before she could take two steps, Ron reached out and grabbed her by the hand to assist in turning her around, asking,

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday that night at Axis?"

"I didn't tell you because we were really drunk," she pulled her hand from his lightly, which left him feeling oddly hollow, "I didn't want it to alter your- decision making process."

He blinked at her, because he knew of what she was speaking. She'd been testing him that night, and he didn't know if he'd won or lost. Should he have taken her home and given her a birthday shag, or did he do the right thing by leaving before things got… hot?

As she turned away from him, he having no words to respond with, to have Hermione reverse the spell on her dress, he had a feeling that he'd lost. But he knew that already. He knew that he had to lose, because it all needed to fade away. With a great amount of will-power, he turned away from her, and watched as his brother and his wife posed for pictures.

-()-()-()-()-()-

The guests began to dwindle, the desserts had already been taken from the large display, the curtains were drawn, and before Ron knew it the lights outside were out, signaling to the people still on the street that they were closed.

A few groups still lingered in the restaurant, mostly some Ministry officials, and one of Ginny's Puddlemere teammates who'd been accompanied by a very beautiful date. (What? Ron needed options.) The Malters left a couple of hours ago after deciding they should get their kids from Teddy and Andromeda's before the adults fell asleep, and they'd given Ron the message to tell Pansy that she'd done an amazing job. Ron had been happy to oblige their request, because Pansy had done mathematically well… Numbers don't lie, and neither did the happy, satisfied looks on the faces of their patrons.

After they had dealt with the "photo op", Pansy had returned to the kitchen and had not come out. From time to time, especially since he was already making the social rounds from table to table, Ron would hear her yell at some unsuspecting victim, and he would go back to check on everything. He had only seen one man look close to tears at her words. He had been caught looking through the glass window into the dining room, instead of doing his job of quality control. To his credit, though, he had continued working even after she'd yelled,

" _What in_ the hell _are you doing looking through that window, McElroy?! Get your nose off of that glass, and_ back _to your station! I made_ every _one aware of the fact that there would be celebrities here! If you want to star-gaze, you can do it_ out-fucking- **side** _!"_

More than once, though, Ron caught himself standing to watch Pansy a little too long; her skill for watching ten skillets at once- flipping their contents one at a time, by hand, in a matter of seconds- her face drawn into a frown of concentration… one he had to admit that he liked. Ron liked watching Pansy work, and the time he spent peering through the two double doors to the kitchen became longer and longer each time. But now that he was heading through them, the kitchen closed though the stragglers remained, he felt his heart beating quickly- almost erratically- as he went to find the witch.

"Where is Chef Pans?" Ron asked a young witch, named Janet, who had scurried past him in her attempt to leave. The kitchen was nearly cleaned as they awaited the last patrons to depart, a majority of the employees already gone. Janet smiled, and said,

"She's out back. With Chef Luka."

Ron smiled, despite being worried at this news, and said, "Thank you, Janet. We'll see you tomorrow. Good job tonight," before he turned and moved toward the back door. He was afraid to go out there, unsure of what awaited him. The look he and Luka had shared earlier, while Pansy was between them, had been unsettling; however, the two of them having a knife fight in the back alley was far more troublesome at present. Sure, he didn't want the man hitting on Pansy (even if he wasn't going to make a move himself, because that was classic Ron), but he didn't want _her_ to "hit" on Luka with a knife…

Nearing the side door, he stopped to listen, just in case he could hear her screaming at the other chef before exiting. Upon hearing silence, Ron moved out to the empty side yard, before walking out to the backyard veranda. A few groups lingered there, but none of them were Pansy and Luka. Ron considered the thought of them leaving, possibly even together, and turned from the stairway that looked over the back yard… only to watch Luka lean down and give Pansy a chaste kiss on the lips before the two walked back into the kitchen through the side door; smiling as they went.

Suddenly, Ron would have been happier with a knife fight.

The prospect of waiting for his feelings to fade faded itself, and not only did his feelings for Pansy come rearing their heads, but jealousy came with them, and anyone who was anyone- who knew Ron- knew that jealousy and this man always resulted in some catastrophic blow up, break-down, all out shite show. The red-head didn't even think once about using his filter has he yelled, whilst standing far too close to a perplexed old woman,

"What?! Fuck!"

With quick steps, fueled by enraged jealousy, Ron made after the two who had just entered the Red House. He walked through the kitchen, through the dining room, and all the way to the floo in enough time to watch Pansy disappear. Luka, who stood near the fireplace, turned and noticed Ron as he arrived, where he proceeded to step back into the green flames, a newly dawned smirk and the words, "Salita Pastina 84011", on his lips.

 **A/N:** Did you see that coming? I know _I_ did… Formulaic… ( ;-) )

 **(The Wind Cries Mary)**

 **A broom is drearily sweeping  
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life  
Somewhere a queen is weeping  
Somewhere a king has no wife  
And the wind, it cries Mary**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** I could listen to the first ten seconds of "Hey Joe" on repeat for _hours_! That rift is just… It's fucking magic, is all I can say!

 **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with Jimi Hendrix. *deploys bottom lip*

 **Part 10- Hey Joe**

"Ron," Draco said rather loudly, breaking Ron from his gaze off into space.

No matter how many times he sat near the triad, he could never understand the runes their interacting auras created. They were the only ones in the world to exhibit such a phenomenon, and no matter how many times Ron looked over Hermione's African voodoo book, he could never understand how the ritual made it to where only Harry and Draco reacted this way around her…

Hermione had suggested that it was love, and Ron had taken that for fact, because there had been no other possible reason! None that he had found over the past decade, anyway…

"Ron!" Harry yelled, waving his hand in front of Ron's face, finally breaking him from his pointless peering. He liked to do that; stare off into space. It felt good on his eyelids, especially since he'd struggled with sleep the night before. It was eight in the morning, and he had already had breakfast and tea with the Malters at seven, after he'd fallen asleep at four.

"What?!" Ron asked, jumping in his chair to look between the other three at the table. The kids had already finished their food, and long since gone back inside. "What is it?"

"You're off in la- la land, when you should be going to the Red House." Ron scoffed at Hermione's observation, and rolled his eyes. He wanted to be there, and he was going to go… he just needed another few minutes.

Last night, after he'd watched Luka follow Pansy to her house, it had taken every ounce of sense, character, will-power, adulthood, you name it, to keep him from blasting through the roof and going off on a jealous tangent that no one needed to see; that he most certainly did not need to take to Pansy's house. He had resorted to going home in anger, showering in anger, and got into bed while, you guessed it, angry. Nothing could help him sleep -masturbation not even an option what with how pissed he was- and he struggled until exhaustion took him. He woke up only two hours later, and showered (livid angry and exhausted) again before going to visit his friends.

"I know. I'll be leaving in a moment…" Ron looked back from his friends, whom he hadn't fooled a bit, to the air above them once more; content in contemplating runes rather than his own emotions.

"What happened?" Hermione asked accusingly, leaning forward in her chair. "You- you've been waiting for this for months and now you don't want to go?" Hermione prodded, leaning forward in her chair.

"Mum!" Holly shrieked from within the house, the four adults on the veranda of the "Malter" Manor where the family had stayed the night after the Grand Opening. It had been easier than waking the kids. "Sev just kicked Abe!"

Hermione sighed loudly, and stood from the table to handle her wild children, heading in through the back door as she yelled, "Severus Sirius Malfoy-Potter! If you can't control yourself, then I will be putting an end to-" The rest was cut off by her closing the door behind her, and Ron shook his head.

"Two years," he muttered, unable to wait to train his godsons to terrorize their biological father solely. He remembered scuffling with his brothers… but he also remembered banding together to make mum and dad's life hell. Hermione wasn't a good target, because she was hell, so Draco would do nicely, and it was deemed even twice as nice once the next conversation took place…

"Ok, Ron. What happened?" Harry asked when Hermione had gone, and Ron looked to him and Draco. Both men were so different; it always made him wonder what the hell happened to make them love each other.

Opposites attract or something…

'Kind of like Pansy and me…' Ron hated that he just thought that.

"Mate! It's fine! I… just had a weird night," Ron defended. He didn't want to have another conversation with these two about Pansy.

"Weird? How?! The grand opening was a _hit_!" Harry answered.

And, of course, Draco added his two knuts with a calm, assured tone, "It's Pansy."

Ron looked to him with a glare, annoyed that the man had guessed; almost wondering if he'd used Legilimency on him while he'd been staring off into space and not noticing much else around him. When Ron didn't answer immediately, Harry said to Draco,

"I really love it when you do that and it's not directed at me." The dark-haired man leaned over and kissed Draco on the cheek before turning back to Ron to say, "What did she do? What did _you_ do? Didn't you apologize for the food fight?"

"I did. We're fine! It's- it's not Pansy."

"Liar," Draco butted in, "Did you tell her you loved her or something?"

"No! I- I don't love her!" Ron didn't even convince himself once he'd stuttered. He sat back in his chair, and sighed, but he pushed the feelings away immediately. Pansy had chosen Luka, and that was all well and good because that was for the better. He didn't need to come apart like a little girl, and start crying or something. The night before, when he'd yelled too loudly near an elderly patron, had been enough of a fit. That woman would probably tell all of her friends the owner of Red House was a loon!

But there was more to consider in all of this, and part of that was the fact that he was sitting at a table with his best friend, and the best friend of the woman he loved, and he was actually considering doing as he always did; suppress, ignore, doubt, and forget. Perhaps this was his problem all along, and with this in mind he decided to come out with it, and trust his friends,

"I- I saw her and Luka kiss last night-" Ron admitted after a moment's silence. Harry gave a small gasp at Ron's words, and Draco's eyes went a little wide, "-after we closed the doors. And then they left together…"

"Fuuuuuck…" Harry said in an airy voice.

"Really?" Draco asked, his face twisting into a face that was a mixture of both confusion and disgust. "She told me, not even a month ago, after Harry and Nev's party, that she was ecstatic that the Red House was almost finished so she didn't have to see Luka anymore! She _loathes_ that tosser!"

"That's what I thought too…" Ron said in a somber voice. It was out, and they were into this topic of conversation, and he wasn't going to hide the fact that he was disappointed. Why else would he care to talk about it if it hadn't hurt his feelings?

"Maybe he used an Imperious on her," Harry suggested.

"Or a love potion," Draco threw in.

"Who used a love potion?" Hermione asked. Ron hadn't noticed her exit the house and walk up to them. She was bare footed, so perhaps she'd used her ninja skills…

"No one," Ron answered quickly. Hermione built his walls with her presence; at least when the topic was women.

"Ron saw Luka kiss Pansy last night," Draco said quickly.

"Ferret!" Ron said loudly to the blonde, who shrugged at him impassively.

"Well, that is going to _kill_ this article in the Prophet…" Hermione said as she threw that morning's issue of the Prophet at Ron, the paper open to the front page, where a large expose on the Red House's Grand Opening blared with pictures, and quotes. Ron was happy with the amazing reviews, but he didn't understand what the fuck any of it had to do with Pansy.

"I don't-" Ron stopped, and looked up to Hermione in confusion. She rolled her eyes, and said,

"Page two."

Ron ignored her sassy tone as he turned the page, where there was a rather large photo of Ron and Pansy from the night before, where they both faced the camera with smiles. There were three small photos below it; one was a picture like the first where they stood side by side and talked to each other shortly before they turned to one another and grinned; the look of comfort on their faces unmistakably those of two idiots in love. Another one of the smaller photos was that of the two of them standing side-by-side as the first wall of the Red House had been put up, their arms touching as they shielded their eyes from the sun, and looked on.

The last picture was taken at Axis, on her birthday, showing the two leaning in close to each other at the bar, glasses in their hands, and Pansy's free hand coming up to hit him lightly on the shoulder before throwing her head back in laughter. The worst part was the title for the article; "England's Most Eligible Bachelor May Not Hold Title Long!", and the subtext that accompanied it, "Is Ron Weasley Bedding His Chef?" He was sure Pansy was going to fly off of her broom at this… It hadn't even been 20 hours since they opened the doors and there were already going to be the same rumors following her in England as there were in Italy about her and Santo.

The Weasley man threw the paper on the table, and scowled as the images played over and over in his mind. 'It's so bloody obvious!' Ron thought in a panic. 'What the fuck are we going to do?!'

"Where was that bottom picture taken?" Harry asked, since he had taken it upon himself to grab the paper from the table, and look at the article with his husband.

"A night club named Axis," Draco answered.

How he knew this, Ron didn't want to know. Had Pansy told her BFF that they'd gone out? Did he know that it was to no carnal avail? Did they go that deeply into conversations about Ron, or did Draco act the same way about Ron and Pansy as Ron did about him and Harry? Or did Draco want her to sleep with Ron so he could have the measurements of his prick? The blonde liked to talk about Ron's bollocks far too often, and the red-head began to wonder about the Slytherin's motives…

Ron was going through a lot right now, and this whole article shite didn't help a thing!

"Yeah," Ron said with a nod, "She asked me to meet her there, right? I took your advice, Harry, and I owled her to ask if I could apologize in person. She sends me a snarky reply, and says she'll meet me at that club, and I buy drinks and we talk, and then we part ways. But get this? It was her birthday, and she didn't tell me until last night!"

Hermione, who had looked rather pleased at the thought of Ron and Pansy going out to drinks, looked abashed by the end. She yelled, "She asks you out for drinks on her _birthday_ and you didn't _shag_ her?! You're an arsehole, Ron!"

"Birthday shags matter, Weasley," Draco added matter-of-factly.

"I'm aware! Thank you!" Ron had already been on one hell of a roller-coaster that morning. "But I wasn't aware of the fact that she wanted that!" Ron was a gentleman… and a scholar… "And, as I mentioned, I _wasn't_ _aware_ it was her birthday! Merlin!"

"Of course she wanted that! Birthday or no! Get a _grip_ , Ronald Weasley!" Having kids had made Hermione "Granmalpot" looney, or something, because she was shrieking already as she continued, "If you spend any more of your time on this planet being a complete nimrod, I am going to twist your fucking spine! You waited way too fucking long in confessing your love for me, and now you're going to do the same thing to Pansy?! She deserves better than that, so get off of your arse, out of my bloody house, and over to Red House before I spend any more time on _your life_!"

Ron, who was getting angry with the woman, not only for her tone but for imposing on his life as she always seemed to do, yelled back, "I didn't ask you to "take care" of this for me! And, if you want to know, I saw her leave with Luka last night after he kissed her! It doesn't bloody matter what you think I should do because nothing is going to happen now!"

"It doesn't matter what you bloody think, Ronald!" Hermione spat back. "She doesn't even like that prick! If anything happened between them, it's because you let it! How many times does this have to happen to you before you to realize what you're doing?!

"I've spent the last few months with you renting far too much space in my conscious mind. Did you know that I have _five_ children? And you're here crying because you're a daft, bloody sissy? Get out of my house, Ronald Weasley! Out! Get the fuck out and go tell Pansy you love her! Before I go tell your _mother_ to do it! Do you know how bloody happy she would be if I gave her the "green light", so to speak, for her to go ahead and tell Pansy for you? She'd start planning the wedding the second-"

Ron didn't hear what was left of Hermione's rant, because he'd stood up, fully intending on getting the fuck out, and did so. He closed the door to the back yard with a slam, and made for the floo. It took him a minute to decide where to go- returning to Hermione and yelling at her for being a harpy who ran everything in everyone's life- even his mother's, apparently- being an option- before he grabbed the powder, threw it into the flames, stepped in and said,

"The Burrow."

-()-()-()-()-()-

"Do you think he's going to do it?" Harry asked as he, his wife, and his husband sat staring at the back door of the Manor.

"Perhaps…" Draco said, acting as if he didn't care, though he hoped all would work out for the best. Pansy was his family, after all, and Ron was somewhere close to that.

"He bloody better!" Hermione was still yelling, and, yes, it was still directed at Ron. "Do you know how hard it was for me not to drop the hint of her birthday?! I almost owled him, but then he'd _know_ I was snooping, and that I _knew_ he fancied her, and he'd probably figure out that I use Legilimency on him when he stares off into space, and then this entire plan would have blown up in face! Boom!"

"Do you think we should go find them?" Harry asked after a second, ignoring his wife's ranting, yet again. He was too bloody high for this. "Maybe make sure no one dies? You know how Ron gets when he feels… passionate… I knew this was going to go badly, pumpkin."

"No," Draco said, putting his hand on his wife's arm. Hermione looked like she was about to dissaparate. Luckily, he stopped her, and she looked to the blonde as he finished, "It will work itself out. You two need to stop meddling where you don't belong... Merlin! You'd think you'd have learned how to control it by now! And you're giving Ron shite for not learning a lesson!" Hermione scowled, and Harry shrugged/nodded his agreeance to Draco's words, before the blonde finished, "Besides, nobody has time for that! Not today! We're due at St. Mungo's, and I still have to brush Vivica's hair since I can't do so with magic, because my _wife_ likes to control everything around her!"

Hermione crossed her arms, glared at the blonde- sobering him instantly- and he nodded before standing, saying, "I think I left the hairbrush in the third bathroom."

-()-()-()-()-()-

Ron stepped from the fire and into the newly decorated, and extended, living room of his childhood home, still angry with his ex and her words. He had made a mistake in asking the Malters for advice, and instead should have asked the one person with infinite knowledge on the subject at hand.

"Dad!" Ron yelled as he walked towards the kitchen.

"We're in here, darling!" Molly called from the stove. Arthur sat at the table, reading the Prophet, an empty plate of food sitting before him on the table. Molly left her station and moved to give Ron a big hug, which he took and returned. "It's so good to see you, darling! Last night was such a smash! I haven't had that much fun, or good food, in ages! We're coming back tonight. I've already told your father, and he agrees.

"He says," Molly continued as she stepped back to the range, and Ron sat at the table across from his father, "that if you don't marry Pansy soon, _he_ will!" Molly and Arthur had gone looney in their old age. Ron used to think Dumbledore was the craziest old coot he'd ever met, but his mom and dad were now the new title holders.

Ron could only roll his eyes, before groaning and saying, "Is my love life that only thing anyone can talk about right now?! You're all going to chase Pansy away! Well!" Ron stopped, and then groaned again before he leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. "Shite! I've already chased her away. She left the restaurant with someone else last night."

"Well, Witch Weekly is going to have one hell of a time if that's the case," Molly interjected as she made a plate of food for herself- she didn't like blood sausage as much as she used to, like Arthur still did- and Ron sighed heavily.

"The thing that all of you seem ready to avoid is the fact that I'm her boss! This could potentially fuck up so many things!"

"Language!" Molly scolded with a frown as she sat down next to him at the table. Ron stole a piece of bacon. "And you won't ever know until you try, Ron. What if she is the one for you? What if you're passing up a once in a lifetime opportunity because she went home with some other bloke last night! You act like I never went home with any other man than your father!"

"Gross," Ron interjected, whereas Arthur shrugged behind his paper.

"Ron! If you don't do anything about this, you're going to die with a hairy heart!"

"Mum!" Ron said with a frown. "I'm not six anymore! Lay off the bedtime stories!"

"But it's true!" His mother continued, "You've had your heart locked in a chest, hidden away from every witch for so long, I'm afraid you're going to die alone and miserable…"

"Mum," Ron began again, rubbing his fingers along his aching temple, "I'm going to be just fine."

"Son," Arthur said suddenly, sternly, looking up from his paper and drawing his son's avid attention, "You sound like an idiot. Listen to your mother. Women know these things about the heart. If your mother says so, if Hermione says so-"

"Your sister also says so," Molly quipped.

"- then just do it, already. Life is short, Ron! I have..!" Arthur put the paper down, looked up to a spot on the ceiling and said, "… thirteen grandchildren!" Ron didn't correct him as he looked back to his youngest son, "And I have no _idea_ when that happened! It will all be over before you know it, and you're still sitting on your hands about a beautiful witch who obviously has similar interests, and who obviously fancies you!" Arthur spun the paper around, and shoved the picture of Ron and Pansy staring, smiling, at each other, in his face. "I am going to have to side with the women, and tell you to get out of my house, son. Go talk to her now, before you die with a hairy heart… _My_ heart is as smooth as a baby's bottom."

"Ok!" Ron yelled in exasperation. Everyone in his family knew, and they were all pushing him, and no one cared that he was scared! He didn't want to be rejected by Pansy. Not ever. It was easier if he rejected her, and kept her at arm's length, so that later- when things got hectic, or they fought, or they grew stale- Ron didn't have to be second best to somebody else. That had always been Ron's base issue; the fact that he always felt inferior, second best, second rate, old cheese, in comparison to some of the most important people in his life.

"I'll- I'll talk to her," Ron finally said, knowing that if both of his parents felt the same way, it was probably the best course of action. But how would everything work out afterward? Would it ruin everything they'd worked so hard to build? "I just hope that it doesn't ruin anything."

"Oh, son," Molly said with a small smile and sigh, perhaps even an eye roll, "You're ruining it already… Now get the bloody _hell_ out of here! And you best go talk to that girl!"

-()-()-()-()-()-

Ron took a deep breath before he walked into the kitchen, painstakingly aware of the fact that he could potentially ruin his life forever by admitting what he was about to to Pansy, but also aware of the fact that his mother and Hermione would ruin his life forever if he didn't do so first. The only reason he listened to Mrs. Malter was probably the same reason everyone else did; she was a stone cold fox, who was deadly as hell, and you didn't want to go against anything she said.

Thankfully, as Ron had expected, the kitchen was empty at ten o'clock in the morning, aside from the one person that he was looking for. She stood with her back mostly to him, at the far prep table used for baking, icing a chocolate cake with light pink icing. For a moment, he stood and watched her as she worked, not quite sure of how he was supposed to say what he knew he had to, before he took a calming breath, and walked up to her as calmly as possible.

"Good morning," he said to her, and she jumped lightly before turning to look up at him. She smiled brightly at him, and said,

"Morning! I'm glad you made it in before lunch. Now we can talk numbers." She turned back to her cake and continued working, adding, "Sorry I didn't stick around last night-" Ron's mind went back to the memory of the night before- the reason she hadn't stuck around- and his mood dampened instantaneously, "- but we're both here now, so we might as well bite the curse."

Ron remained silent for a few moments, wherein a red flag went up, and he tried to repress his feelings as best as possible, before responding, "Yeah. Cool." He turned away from her, intent on going to his office, already riding a high emotional roller-coaster that was bound to come down eventually.

He, once again, decided to curse Hermione, perhaps even his mother! Finding Pansy and telling her how he felt _at work_ was not the best idea! He probably should have stayed home, and dealt with it in his own time.

"What's the matter with _you_?" Pansy asked his retreating back. He stopped near the end of the table and looked back at her; her dark brows drawing together as she frowned up at him in confusion. Ron didn't know if he should tell her about the Prophet article, or the fact that he saw her kiss Luka and that it had pissed him off; or that he was still pissed off.

So he decided to lie…

"Nothing," He hoped he sounded convincing, and she gave him a look that said he hadn't.

"Right…" Pansy said, shaking her head, and turned back to the cake. "I guess we're only co-workers, so I won't ask you about yourself. If this doesn't have anything to do with work, I don't want to hear about it anyway. Accio raspberries." She reached up with her left hand, without looking up from icing with her right, and caught the strainer of fruit and set it beside the cake on the table. Her face looked squished with annoyance.

That annoyed Ron.

"I'm sure you don't," he grumbled. "I knew I was wasting my time…" He turned away from her once more, but before he could take two step he heard Pansy say sternly,

"Accio knife seven!"

Ron stopped mid-step, and he spun on his heel to face her yet again; the glares the two held were unmistakably filled with heated anger- the months of pent-up emotions roiling, boiling, on the surface of their features- but their eyes held much more than just anger. So much more, that both of them froze with faces of mild shock for a second or two as they both registered the meaning of Pansy brandishing the butcher knife, then they turned back to anger as they continued to hold each other's gaze. She didn't lift the knife, or wield it as a weapon, or slam it blade down onto the table, but even still, Ron didn't need to ask what she meant by her gesture.

Once he grabbed his bearings, he folded his arms over his chest with a deep frown, and said coolly, "Honestly, Parkinson? We're _coworkers_... I'm not showing you my cock."

Ron hated Pansy's spiteful giggles...

He fucking _hated_ them!

He hated Pansy's boisterous giggles…

He fucking- _hated_ them!

He hated Pansy's "innocent" giggles…

He fucking-

… You get the picture…

However, never had he had the pleasure of hearing the three squished into one sardonic chuckle/giggle... He- _liked_ it!

"Oh, come now, Won- Won-" Ron threw up in his mouth a little, because she knew about Lavender, "- you don't have to lie to me… You _want_ to show me your cock."

Ron's face did that red thing that he hated… that- _she_ liked. He tried to cool himself down- he tried to meditate like crazy Hermione- while keeping his eyes open and staring at Pansy; his chest heaving.

But it was in vain.

He was pissed that she said that to him, because it was true. He hated that she knew that, and that she'd said it out loud, and that he had to be the dumb shite to even walk into it! He knew how she liked to play… Dirty!

'Poor choice of words…'

"You know- I-" Ron started, beginning to feel himself boiling over at the fact that he wanted to yell at her _and_ kiss her, all to relieve his heart cramping; the feeling similar to that of heartstrings being tugged, "- I saw Luka kiss you last night." She froze at this, all malice leaving her as she looked up at him with softened features; her jaw going slack along with her shoulders. He noticed the change, but continued,

"And it- _really_ bothered me… Because I've started to-"He hated that his chest felt like it did when Ginny punched him in it, but worse,"- I started to actually enjoy your company. And I started to-" he licked his lips and put his hand through his hair, "- _anticipate_ seeing you again. And the grand opening was made that much _better_ \- _twice_ so- because _you_ were here too!

"I don't know when all of this dragon shite turned into me feeling this way about you! All I know is that it started with me noticing the fact that you don't look bad in Muggle clothes- spectacular actually- and then just started wondering who you were as a person, and then it turned into me wanting to know _anything_ about you! I - I wanted to ask you what your favorite food was, but I thought it too personal a question, even if you know that mine is chicken!" Ron was yelling now, which may have been a bad thing… "Then, I started to like it when you laughed, because I _hate_ your laugh- or… I _used_ to!" His voice got even louder now, and he began to ramble, and rattle off every word that came into his head… which was really, really bad. "And, if I would have had my way, I would have torn that fucking dress that Hermione put you in last night off, and covered you in crème brulee so that I could hear the noises you make when I lick it off.

"But all of that is "too personal", and it crosses boundaries we aren't supposed to cross! And that mattered- that it was all too personal- because I _already_ felt like I was shite for going to your house unannounced and being all- _creepy_! And for making you feel like you weren't welcome around the people who just so happen to be _our_ family! _And_ for starting that bloody food fight! I knew I had crossed so many boundaries by doing that, and I am _so_ sorry for all of it! I wanted to owl you, so many bloody times, and beg you to forgive me, but I didn't want you to get angrier at me for saying something that would let you know how much I care about you!

"And it's not because I'm your boss and I shouldn't, but because I know how you feel about how people _like_ to see you and your relationship with Santo; and also because I figured you would never want to have anything to do with me because I'm a total fucking cock-sucker who's insensitive and says too much! But! _Honestly_?! I _never_ learn! Because I can't help but say that when I watched Luka follow you home last night, I almost followed that git and killed him, but I didn't because I have no right to! And I don't care if you know that I got angry because I was jealous, because it should have been _me_ who went _home_ with you last night! I fucking _love_ you, Pansy! I should have said so before I lost you to fucking _Luka_! But, like I said, I never _bloody_ learn!"

In the silence that followed the end of Ron's rant, knife seven slipped from the stunned witch's hand, hit the floor with a resounding "clang", and then disappeared.

 **A/N:** Woot woot woot woot woot woot woot woot woot woooooooooo! What happens next?

 **A/N:** I started a new fic! It's a Drarry!Western named "I've Been Through the Desert". Check it out if you're interested. :)

 **(Hey Joe)**

 **Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun of yours?  
Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand, oh  
I'm goin' down to shoot my old lady  
You know I caught her messin' 'round with another man**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Thank **I was BOTWP** for helping me with the smut in this chap. For some reason, I could write everything but that! So, I asked for a prompt paragraph, and this is what came from it! So, thank her. Show her your respect!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _JH_ or _HP_.

 **Part 11- Remember**

Pansy blinked at Ron, her large eyes widening, her lips slowly parting as she let her jaw hang just a little… and he noted the deep breath she took that lifted her chest.

Ron felt very uneasy all of a sudden; definitely not as self- assured, and definitely not as angry… Now he felt like he'd stepped over a serious line by saying what he had. He'd always gotten too angry… with everything! When he got angry, ha always said too bloody much! He felt very passionately about _everything_ that he loved and cared for, or was interested in. And, right now he loved and cared for- and was interested in- Pansy! And he'd told her, and now she was looking at him like he'd grown another head.

"Uh…" Ron's fire from his rant dwindled, and he stepped back once, putting his hands up, saying, "I- I didn't…" She remained silent and still, and Ron turned away from her before he dissaparated.

He landed in his living room, moving to the couch, and slumping down into it, before resting his face in his palms, saying, "I am daft… This is _ridiculous_! I actually did it! I told her! _And_ I said I that I saw the kiss with Luka?! _And_ I watched them leave?! _AndIsaidIwantedtocoverherincremebruleeandlickitoff_?!" Ron threw his head back with a groan, happy, yet again, for his beloved couch protecting his skull. "I can't believe I _bloody said that_ … I can't believe I- _love Pansy Parkinson_ and I bloody _told_ her!" Ron almost screamed this last part, because it was blowing his fucking mind how much shite he just let slip through the crack between his flapping fucking lips.

"Oh, Merlin!" He tried to take a few breaths, which still felt like he wasn't breathing, before yelling, "How the fuck am I supposed to go back there _now_? She's going to kill me! I didn't even get to mention the article!" He took a few more breaths, which felt a little better. "No- it's probably a good thing, actually, because I don't actually _mind_ it… Fuck!" Ron stood from the couch, and moved to the fireplace, fully intending on going to see George- because Hermione was a bad choice, as was the Burrow, the Red House, and his own house- and yelling at "His Holiness" for having a big hole in his head, a big, flapping mouth, _and_ for adding to all the shite.

Honestly, Ron just needed to yell at someone he wasn't attracted to.

George _was_ a handsome bloke with good genetics, yes. But still. Gross.

Ron's mind was still reeling, and before he could grab for floo powder or dissaparate, his buzzing mind stopped him once more, and he began ranting again, " _But_ , if I go see George, he'll probably tell me I did the right thing, like all the rest of them did slash will! Fucking loons! That Black Family blood does a right number, no matter _how_ little you have in you! That's probably what's happened to Hermione lately. Did read that study in that fucking magazine in Amsterdam about the father's genetics altering the mother's DNA while the baby is in utero, and it making the mum all bloody loon-"

The flames in the fireplace roaring loudly caused Ron to stop his nervous-talk bull shit, and then his heart stopped when Pansy appeared; her face set in a glower as she stepped from the fire, pushing Ron in the chest so that she could exit the fire. 'She could have asked,' Ron thought absently as he stepped back and let her enter the living room.

" _You_ -" she pointed at his face- which was cute, because she was so short in comparison- and yelled, "-don't get to say something like that and then leave! You don't get to dissaparate and make me have to go ask Draco, of _all fucking people_ , where the fuck you live because I have no fucking clue, and I have to do mother fucking damage control! Because I now have to keep you from bloody accidentally killing yourself on some rampage! _Or_ watching Hermione kill you because, apparently, the two of you've had it out already this morning!

"I am _pissed_ that you said all of that and then _left_ before I got to tell you how _I_ bloody feel! Now that _I_ am here, I guess it's time that _we_ have it out, so you better sit down and shut up, you big ginger fuck, because I have something to say!" He did as he was told, because she pushed him hard in the chest once more, back towards the couch he loved. She stood before him with one hand on one hip, and one hand whipping about in the air for emphasis as she went on yelling,

"There is something that must be made clear, and that is that I work _way_ too much, and I haven't had any time to have a relationship- of _any_ kind- since I took this apprenticeship. I haven't even cared, because I've been too preoccupied getting ahead, and achieving my next goal, and getting better and better rather than finding someone because it's just not me! Make cake, not babies! My career is far more important than getting married, and having children, and carrying on the "family legacy"! I was so tired of hearing that shite, that I made it my mission to _never_ fall into _that_ pureblood agenda ever!

"Then you came to Santo's for the first time, and I started doing the same thing _you_ did. I started to wonder about you. I had already done this, though, you know! I _was_ there at the Malter wedding, even though I noticed that you avoided me the entire time! That's when _I_ started to wonder about you, and what you'd been doing, and who you'd been seeing, and why and when in the hell did you grow up to be so Merlin forsaken handsome!? But I brushed it off, ignored it, left it to the birds!

"Then it happened again, the winter I was at Fabiola's, and I took a week off of my studies to be ready for the Christening, only for you to leave because you couldn't stand being _around_ me! Imagine the blow _that_ dealt! So, I decided to hell with you, Ronald Weasley! If you're going to be an arsehole, then I will let you have your family, because I couldn't handle watching you be so conceited! I pushed any and all thoughts of you from my mind, because I figured there was absolutely no chance you could look beyond our past and get over what I did to Harry.

"But at Santo's, it all started _again_! I began wondering what you thought of our current situation and whether or not you liked me, or just what you liked in _general_! And I _knew_ you love chicken because you ate plenty of it at school, and I noticed because I've always thought you were kind of cute!

"I have been spending all of these years wondering when the fuck you'd get over all of our shite, and then you finally come out and tell me your problem with me, but only _right after_ you hire me! Merlin! I was so _humiliated_! And it hurt more than I thought it would, but I was really bloody confused because I was sure you eye fucked me when you showed up for dinner that night, and I, for a second, thought that you'd just put all of that shite behind us and notice that I had noticed you. Yeah, you said some filthy things, but everyone I know does that, so I didn't think anything of it! Then you meet my parents, and you stayed even after the things they said to us, and I really thought that, maybe, your feelings had changed! And not just as friends, but as something else, and I didn't care that we worked together at that point because I had fancied you for so long!" Ron's eyes had widened by this point, and his jaw had slackened, but he still stared at up at her as she rambled on,

"Then Viv's party came, and the food fight happened, and Hermione came and found me afterwards and told me she knew you fancied me, and that I just had to be patient because you would tell me eventually. When you owled me, I couldn't help but let my Slytherin take over, and I invited you to Axis, making sure I was nice and sauced, and that I dressed like a tart, because I so very, very badly wanted to shag you, and have for forever, and I always fuck everything up because work is always there, at the forefront of my mind! Once I gave you those applications at Axis, I knew you'd never tell me, because you too were thinking of work and ethics. And I was ok with that, because I've done that too! For years!

"I wanted to wait for you. I did. But I had grown tired of waiting because I knew it wasn't coming- that you hadn't taken the bait- so I tried to move on as best I could… _Why_ did you wait to tell me until now!? After I was so sure you never would?!"

Ron stood, finally able to think in full sentences, and he made sure to grab her by the upper arms to keep her from falling back as he did so. But he didn't let her go- even if they were dangerously close- as he yelled, "I waited because I thought you wouldn't actually love me the way I love you! And it seems to me that you've already "moved on" just fine! You might as well go back to work, or to Luka, because I obviously waited too long! _Luka_ , Pansy?! I thought you _hated_ him!"

"I don't!" Ron nearly growled at her admitting this. "Not anymore! I _knew_ that you saw Luka follow me! I've known all night and day! He _told_ me you did!" She still yelled, and Ron flinched at her words, and couldn't find any of his own before she continued, "Do you want to know _why_ he would tell me something like that? It's because I turned him down last night, after he professed his "undying love" for me! But I told him that my heart belongs to someone else, and that I had no feelings for him. He told me, before he left my house, that he'd followed me only to make you jealous, because you're a half-witted arse who doesn't know what he has right in front of him! And it was funny to him to watch you fume, because _you_ have my heart! I love _you_ , you daft, bloody git! And he was happy he made you so angry!"

"Wh-?" Ron stared down at her, and she glared up at him, and he asked, "I- You do?"

"Yes!" she was still yelling, because he was _so slow_! But, in his defense, he was thoroughly bloody shocked.

But that didn't really last long, because Pansy Parkinson decided then was the perfect time to kiss Ronald Weasley.

She had to pull her arms from his hands, and jump rather high to wrap her arms around his neck, before she pressed her soft-as-hell lips onto his. He responded by wrapping his own arms around her waist, and pulled her up his body for her to wrap her legs around his waist; neither breaking the kiss in the motion. He squeezed her tightly, enjoying all too much how she felt in his arms and the sound she made as she responded to his grip; how she held him tighter with her legs around his waist, and her arms wrapped around his neck; her chest pressed against his in a way that made him think she fit against him so perfectly he never wanted to let her go.

He moved his hands up her back, wrapping them around her middle, loving the way it felt for arms to meld to the contours of her curves; totally digging how it felt for his elbows to rest over the flare of her hips, while his ulnas bracketed her small waist, and how his hands wrapped around her ribs; the tops of his fingers brushing the sides of her breasts. Her fingers went from his back, where she'd been clinging to his shirt, up to his hair. Tingles started at the base of Ron's neck from her fingertips, the electricity moving down his spine, the feeling causing him to hold her to him tighter. She moaned into his lips; her own parting as she let the sensual noise pass, as well as Ron's tongue… She moaned again, louder this time… which shot right into Ron's ears, and down to his dick.

At the feeling of himself growing harder, he realized the two had gotten caught up in the moment, and that maybe they shouldn't be going any further considering they _did_ have work to do. He never learned, and he knew this, but he didn't want to impose on her schedule by getting too randy. She'd been in the middle of something when he'd started yelling.

Ron held her a little tighter, kissed her a little harder, and burned the feeling of her in his arms into every bit of his being that touched her… and then he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her away until she was on her feet. She looked up at him confused- disappointed, even- as he looked down at her and said, "I- we- we should probably stop."

For a moment, she stared up at him unblinking, before she summoned her wand and spelled her clothes away; leaving only her red bra and underwear. She cast a contraceptive charm, threw her wand on the coffee table and said, "I think I get to decide whether or not we stop. I instigated this," she grabbed Ron by the front of his shirt and asked, "Where's your room?"

"What?" Ron had officially pulled a geographical.

"Wha-?" she looked confused for a second, before casually adding, "You know what? Who needs a bedroom? You have a perfectly good couch, right here in your _living room_."

Having sex in your living room in the Wizarding World is the equivalent of having sex on the front porch in the Muggle World. It was fun, risqué, exciting, usually left for those nights that you've had a few too many drinks… but your mum could just pull up in the driveway whenever she felt like it and ruin the mood.

Molly just so happened to carry a 9mm and drove a '64 Impala, because she was an OG of mood killing.

Looking to his right towards the stairs that led to his room, thinking, for a moment, that he would apparate them upstairs, ha had a far better idea reach his mind when his eyes landed on the archway to the kitchen. Grabbing her by the hips, he picked her up, allowing her to once again wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, as he carried her through the room and open foyer. She leaned forward to suck on the skin just below his ear as they went, and he found himself struggling to put her down as his hands had begun to grope the arse he'd been wondering about for far too long.

Walking up to his kitchen table, he set her on its clothed surfaced, and he pulled away to ask, "Can I try something?"

She grinned, and answered, "Only as long as it has something to do with _crème brulee_."

"Are you a Legilimens?" He asked with a raised brow and a smile.

She pushed up to give him a quick kiss, and her grin turned mischievous as she lay back, her legs hanging over the edge as her back met the white surface, his own legs still between hers. She stared up at him with curiosity, and Ron decided to quell her confusion post haste. He pulled out his wand, and cast a spell that wrapped her wrists in soft bindings, that then wrapped and secured themselves to the legs at the other end of the table; pulling her arms up and slightly spread out. He cast another, and her suspended legs were spread wider as the wraps grabbed her ankles and tied them to the table legs. As a secondary precaution, he set a nice ward that would keep uninvited _guests_ from being able to see into, or enter, his kitchen.

"Comfortable?" he asked her as he set his wand on the table beside her before he removed his shirt.

She took a deep breath before licking her lips, and saying, "Yes," in a breathy voice.

He smiled at her and bent over the table to give her a kiss, saying, "Don't worry. You're safe."

Then he stepped back.

Ron's wealth afforded him the ability to do a spot of travelling, even after the bit he'd done with the Ministry. But after his discoveries, he grew a certain curiosity regarding Muggles, which led him to want to study their "warding" systems. Why not combine pleasure and business? Believe it or not, Ronald Weasley took pleasure in more things than just food, Quidditch, and women. By now, Ron had visited a few museums in more nations than he could list, as they were the best places to study the technology behind Muggle alarms. It was in doing so, that he decided he found Muggle art enthralling; even if they never moved like the paintings from his youth, the adult Ron decided that each one had something to say. He appreciated the ways artists used different brush strokes, textures, and colors to create amazing, stimulating, passionate creations... Yeah, he was that one dude who could be found looking at the same painting for 20 minutes straight, just moving to a slightly different spot in front of it to see if he could take it all in in a different light.

Ron stared at a naked Pansy lying across a table, a white cloth beneath her, and thought about how he could paint this blank canvas; thinking that he had to begin with crème brulee.

He held out his hand, conjuring a pumpkin crème brulee from the refrigerator in England's Red House, and he gave her a playful smile before he scooped a bit out of a ramekin and swiped it across the witch's smiling lips. Leaning down, he licked it back off, with slow, teasing licks. He repeated the action. On the third time, he allowed her to take his custard covered finger deep into her mouth to suck it. The action went straight to his cock, because she'd stared up at him with eyes filled with lust and want. When she'd thoroughly cleaned his finger, he picked up more and painted a line from her ear to her clavicle. Starting from the bottom, he licked up to the top, where he greedily sucked it up before taking a pause to nibble at her earlobe. She giggled at this, and he repeated the action.

The next time his crème covered finger touched her skin, he made a short trail between her tits, and was sure to keep his eyes on hers as he licked it off, all the way until he'd finished his job, and savored the dessert on his tongue. He did this to all the amazing parts of her body. He painted swirls around her delicate, pink nipples, where she'd shuddered and moaned as he licked them clean. Her dainty bellybutton received a large dollop, where she'd giggled, and laughed, and pulled against her restraints. He'd decorated each hip bone with full handprints when he grabbed them tight, where her abdomen had fluttered as she'd bit her lip to keep from gasping when his tongue laved the marks back off. She'd mewled through her smeared thighs being suckled on, and they'd landed back on giggles when he'd licked the inside of her knees.

Eventually, he stood back to watch his trembling witch, and admitted, "I've been _waiting_ to do this." He watched as he worked, dragging his finger, with a bit of crème, up the length of her wet slit to her clit. She shuddered as his fingertip touched the sensitive bud, but gasped loudly when he ducked his head and began to swirl his tongue on the pink flesh.

"Oh, yes!" she said with a plea edging her voice, "Yes, Ron. Keep doing that." He applied ample pressure, and gave sharp flicks of his tongue, awarding him with a buck of her hips.

Placing his hands on her inner thighs, he grasped them tightly as he held her down, and began to lick the remnants of the pumpkin flavored sweet from her pussy; painting a different picture with the tip of his tongue; he mastered the _Mona Lisa_ , he signed his name at the "bottom" of _Starry Night_ ; broke bread with Jesus at the _Last Supper_ … you get the point.

"Oooooooohhh, fuuuuuuuuuck!" she cried out as she came, pushing herself further into his face as he drank her juices, as she swore his name, and fell off the peak. Ron stood, and couldn't help the smile that hit his face as he looked down on her; instantly growing rock hard at the sight of her lying there, after he'd gotten her off with his mouth, catching her breath with a small smile of completion on her lips.

The tightness in his pants soon became too much, and he removed them and his boxers, letting them fall to the floor before stepping out of them. He grabbed his wand and released her, and grabbed her up to scoot her arse to the long edge of the table. He stood between her legs, and grabbed the side of her neck to pull her in for a kiss while simultaneously grabbing himself and placing the head of his prick at her entrance. Her hips moved forward the instant she felt him, trying to slide onto him as her lips and tongue still moved with his. He obliged her need with his own as he pushed in the head first, and then began to work himself into her with the help of her arousal and his saliva.

Finally pushing in to the hilt- finally being inside of her- gave him a sense of completion that was the absolute opposite of release; the thrill of the catch. He'd finally had her, and he had no intention of letting her go any time soon. She must have had similar plans, because she brought her arms up to wrap under his own as he wrapped her in his before pushing her face into his shoulder. He slowly built up speed, but managed a little restraint with wanting to make the feeling of her wrapped around him to last as long as possible.

At first, the only noises she made were little whimpers, which drove him bloody mad with lust, but he could tell the noises were from discomfort. She was tight as hell, and he aware that he was larger than average, so he knew better than to be too rough… at least for now. He did all he could, as he held her close to him, to keep himself in check, until her whimpers turned to moans, which led to groans, which led to high-pitched cries when he hit just the right spot, which turned to,

"Fuck me harder, Ron."

He didn't need to be told twice.

Tightening his grip, he picked her up to move her to the counter, which was much taller than the table, and it was the ideal height for perfect leverage. She leaned back against the wall and her elbows, and he took her left leg and threw it over his shoulder before he grabbed her hips to pull her onto him, and it was in this that he lost all semblance of control. He didn't have to hold back any longer, and finally had his chance of shagging her until neither of them could walk.

She tightened her grip with her leg around his hip, braced herself with the leg over his shoulder, digging her nails into one of his forearms as his free arm moved down so that he could lightly pinch her clit between thumb and forefinger. Her hips responded so well to the tease- her pussy spasming on his length- so he did so again, which only made her cry out loudly in approval. He braced his feet slightly farther apart so as to make his thrusts harder still, and which only helped in his balls slapping against the bottom of her plentiful arse, which hung off the edge of the counter. He kept pinching and pressing her button as he brought his other hand up to grab one of her large tits- as much as would fit in his hand- and used his forefinger to push and swirl the nipple; only to move to do the same with the other.

At one point, after thirty or so bucks into the soaking brunette on his counter, Ron took his hand from her breasts to smacked the sensitive flesh on her inner thigh, telling her firmly, "I want to see you come again, you filthy witch."

"I'm going to!" she exclaimed. He slapped her thigh again, harder, saying louder,

"Come on my cock, Pansy."

"I'm fucking going to!" she practically screamed, and he couldn't help his smile as she did, in fact, scream, "Fuck me, fuck me, I'm coming!" He kept his fast, heavy pace, feeling the muscles within her tighten around him as her thighs trembled, and he didn't cum until her screams stopped.

"Bloody, fucking Merlin, Pans! I'm coming, too!" He gave two more hard bucks before he felt the pressure release, and he pulled himself out to blow his seed on her stomach… which ended up being more than he had expected, and it hit her in the face where she leaned half against the wall. It landed on her cheek, chest, and at least one drop landed on her stomach as he watched her tongue dart out to taste what he'd left on her bottom lip.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and she gave tired smile. He returned it as he took a few deep breaths before pulling her up to his chest for a kiss. He may have come, but he wasn't done with her yet. He was still hard, still running on high, and he wasn't going to waste a single minute of listening to her moan and cry out beneath him.

Pulling her off of the counter and onto her feet, he dissaparated them to his room in the blink of an eye, and he pushed her back onto his bed. He climbed on after her, while using her hips to flip her onto her stomach, and she helped with no objection when he pulled her up onto her knees. He grabbed her hands and placed them on the head board before moving his own hands back to her hips. Leaning over her, He gripped her hips tightly as he deftly aligned himself with her opening, and pushed himself into her roughly, and continued a hard, near brutal, speed as he drove into her, bringing the palm of his hand down onto her arse, making her cry out in a way he wanted to hear over and over.

"Harder! Spank me harder!" She demanded over her shoulder. He made sure that, this time, she screamed when he did so, and he was pleasantly surprised when she pushed her arse back against him harder in response.

-()-()-()-()-()-

"Oh, no. No way," Pansy said, smiling at Ron, who stood by the front door with his broom in hand. "I know how you Weasleys fly." Ron grinned back at her, taking a few steps towards her to put his arm around her waist, saying,

"If you know so much about us Weasleys, then you know I'll make sure you're safe… _and_ that you will have a good time." He wiggled his brows at her, and she gave snort, before answering with a smile,

"A good time? Yes. However, I don't think _anyone_ would call what we did earlier safe."

Ron's grin grew wider, and bent down to kiss her, which she returned by wrapping her arms around him. As they pulled away, he said, " _That_ was what safety looks like. You have no idea what I would do to you." He gauged her expression, and was pleased to see her smile turn into a mischievous smirk.

"What _have_ you been thinking about in that brain of yours?"

"You're going to have to wait until later. If we don't leave now, we'll have to cancel Family Dinner," Ron answered. They'd fallen asleep after their fantastic romp, and they still had to go over paperwork, and Pansy still had to get started on dinner. They'd worked up quite an appetite, and Ron's stomach was growling.

"I'm sure you'd hate that," Pansy answered with a smile. She knew he loved to eat, and would never skip a meal.

"I would." Ron nodded at her, before giving her with chaste kiss and saying, "But it would be alright… because I'd be here with you."

 **A/N:** Finito! Kind of… There's an epilogue to come!

 **(Remember)**

 **So, baby, if you'll please come home again, you know I'll  
Kiss you for my supper,  
You know I'll kiss you for my dinner, yeah!  
But, ah, if you don't come back you know I'll have to  
Starve to death  
'cus I ain't had one kiss all day now**


	12. Epilogue

**A/N:** _Now_ we're at the end. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I _still_ don't own this.

 **Are You Experienced?**

 **Epilogue**

 **1 year, 2** …

(Maybe. *counts on fingers* Just about... Right? Yeah..? Oh. Sorry.)

 **1 Year, 3 Months, and 22 Days Later…**

The wedding was, in Ron's opinion, the best he'd ever had the pleasure of attending, let alone took part in.

There was delicious food, wild friends, good music; his, nieces, nephews, and godkids were running around in formal dress, screaming and laughing; his mother and father looked happier than they had in years! Harry, oddly enough, was a good choice as best man, and looked quite smart. Hermione, of course, was a beautiful maid of honor. Ron had laughed, because Draco had been given the job of wrangling his brood without his lovers. The triad had moved back to England three months prior, and had been a huge help with the ceremony.

The decorations were beautiful; there were strings of fairy lights that lined the arch, walkway, and chairs, which led out onto the beach, all the way to the water; the canvas canopies, tables, and chair all set on the sand, and protected by the waves. The food was spectacular, and catered by both Red Houses, of course! It was all top quality, beautifully presented, and perfectly paired with the best wines and spirits galleons could buy. Everyone enjoyed their meals just as much as they enjoyed watching the wedding of the century.

The bride looked _breathtaking_!

Oh, wait… "Brides".

Ginny and Marceline looked spectacular, and their wedding was the best Ron had _ever_ attended. It was only made better by the fact that he had Pansy- his coworker, friend, drinking buddy, lover, and girlfriend- as his date. But she was in an odd mood that day, having woken up feeling under the weather in their hotel room in Brazil, and needing a cool shower before being able to get dressed. Ron had told her that she needn't go to the wedding. When she insisted, he'd even told she could leave after, or even during, the ceremony. She'd taken the short trip down the hall of their hotel, to the Malters' room, and asked Draco for a Pepper Me Up. She'd returned looking even more upset, but hadn't listened to Ron when he told her to lie down.

Both Red Houses were still doing phenomenally well, and had been featured in magazines, newspapers, and catalogs across the globe, bringing patrons and reviews from all over the world. Despite all of Ron's irrational fears, he and Pansy had been able to work side by side perfectly, and both loved their jobs. He'd kicked himself a few times for not asking her out sooner, but, just maybe, things worked out the way they were supposed to.

As the wedding day went on, and the reception began, Ron and Pansy were sitting under a canvas tent, at a long table with the Malters and Molly, who was chatting up a storm after four or five glasses of wine. Hermione and Draco were listening to the jovial woman intently- Harry watching as his triplets ate their cake in the chairs next to him. The only time those three were happy was when they had sweets, so they were presently docile. Pansy sat next to Ron, also listening to his mum, still looking ill, but trying to remain attentive.

His mother was bragging about how many hours it had taken to make the brides' dresses, and Ron didn't find it worth listening too. Besides, he had heard many other conversations throughout the day that were far more interesting to reflect upon:

 _-"Yeah..! Who_ is _she?!" Holly asked, confused and alarmed, the young witch having found a cricket bat that rested over one shoulder, and who was being "grilled" by a very swotty Mateo, Vivica, Jane, and Zarek._

" _What?!" Mateo yelled._

" _What?!" Vivica asked, her jaw dropping._

" _The Sultan of Swat!" Jane yelled._

" _The King of Crash!" Zarek added._

" _The Colossus of Clout!" Mateo shouted, and Vivica echoed,_

" _The Colossus of_ Clout _!"_

"Babe Ruth _!" They all four yelled at Holly at once._

"The Great Bambino _!" Mateo finished., looking beside himself with shock, anger, and worry._

 _Holly's eyes went wide before she dropped her bat, slapped her hands to either temple, and yelled, "You mean that's the same guy?!"-_

Ron had overheard the end of a conversation between George and Angelina, which he had found very intriguing, when he'd gone to use the loo some ways down the beach before the ceremony had begun:

 _-"… and you did_ what _with Marcy while you were in this closet?"_

" _It's called "Seven Minutes in Heaven", love. It's an innocent Muggle game!"_

" _Ha! I've got you, there, Annie. You're about to be not ok, because I know what that game is! Harry and Draco played it at the Joint Birthday Bash!"_

" _So_ you _are allowed to watch two blokes make-out at a birthday party, but I can't get a little strange from a super-model during her bachelorette party? Get with the times, mate! It's not a big deal!"_

 _George gaped at his wife before she escaped into the women's loo without another word.—_

There had been a less heavy conversation had between Seamus, Neville, Luna, and an unconscious Dean, only an hour ago, while Ron had been at the bar getting water for his girlfriend:

 _-"… and then I started to wonder, "Who_ is _the weed man, you know?" Seamus was really high, and it became painfully obvious when he asked, "What if_ Hitler's _"The Weed Man"? I mean, you know he didn't die! There's no_ way _that cunt died!"_

" _Seamus._ Pass _that," Neville said, the pureblood looking rather bored at the half-blood's change in topic of conversation. Seamus reached over Dean- who had fallen asleep between the Irishman and Neville- the Auror taking the joint and saying, "It's a proven fact that the street lights in the Champ de Mars were taken out so that old Addy could get his private airplane in there… Read a book, mate! Don't you get the Hitler channel?" Neville hit the joint, and passed it to Luna._

 _The blonde witch took a hit, then another, and said, "Hitler's_ gotta _be the man."_

" _Ah_ ha _!" Seamus said, pointing at Luna in triumph._

" _Please don't encourage him much more, my love," Neville said to his wife. "Remember, we don't talk about Religion, Time Travel,_ or _Evil Dictators while we're high. Gryffindor rule number three." -_

The one he overheard, presently, sometime well into the reception, had to be Ron's most memorable:

"I would have never thought I'd see my daughter look so happy!" Molly wailed, "Marcy makes her so happy! I am _so happy_ for them! And _you_ , Pansy!" Molly turned her attention to Ron's already uneasy girlfriend, "You make my Ronnie so happy..! ...Wait-" The Weasley matriarch changed her expression and tone of voice as she looked to Pansy, who gave her a wry smile. "Wha-? What?!" Molly began to stumble over her words, before a grin broke out over her face as she said, "Pansy, darling! You- you, uh- you look quite flush! Are- uh… are you feeling well?"

"Jesus and Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth for a second, before removing it to ask, "Are- are you still feeling… uh… under the weather, Pans?"

"I'm fine," Pansy replied shortly as she cleared her throat. Then, her hand went to her mouth, and she took a sharp inhale and held it as she turned slightly green, before her skin flushed once more. After a few seconds, she released her breath, shakily, and that was when Harry yelled,

"Holy fuck, I know that look!" The bespectacled man looked to the very confused looking Ron, before turning back to Pansy and saying, "You're _pregnant_! When were you going to tell us?!"

"What?!" Ron almost screamed, " _Who_ 's pregnant?" he turned to look at Hermione, then his mum, then to his girlfriend, who looked back at him with a very apprehensive look, before saying,

" _I_ am…"

Ron grasped the edge of his seat, swayed, and then blacked out onto the chairs beside him, before rolling off of them and under the table. Molly, Harry, and Pansy moved to check on the fainted Ron, while Draco cackled with his wife; Hermione yelling at her fainted friend, "Get up off the floor, you pussy!" She fell into another fit of hysterical laughter, which Draco joined her in.

"Ron?" Pansy asked, slapping him awake. She'd seen him faint once before, the first time he'd watch her slit a cow's throat in the slaughter house. "Love? Come on. Wake up," Pansy urged. Ron's eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at his girlfriend with confusion and fear.

"Are you really?" He asked. She nodded, looking as full of fear- and as close to throwing up- as he felt, and he took a stabling breath before he got up off the floor, and pulled Pansy into him for a hug.

 **A/N:** Thank you all for giving this fic a chance, and bearing with me to the end! All of my loyal readers are amazing, and you made the trip that much easier. Perhaps there will be more to come in this part of the AUniverse. We'll see. :) I have some ideas.

 **A/N:** I would also like to thank my BETA, **I was BOTWP** , for all of the help she's given me the last nine months with my fics. I can't believe we've been doing this for that long! (Look, boo! We've made two babies!) I'd also like to thank **storygirl1015** for all of her inspirational IMs!

Thank you for reading "Are You Experienced?" I'm out! Deuces!


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